To Kill A King
by Hadrianna
Summary: When Arthur is abducted by an unknown enemy, Merlin and Gwaine rush to his aide. But what began with a simple ransom note soon turns into a more intricate plot that threatens to bring Camelot to its knees. Set late season 3. M for torture. Hurt!Arthur.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own none of the original characters. *sigh*

Prologue

It could have been such a fine evening. The Ale was cheap, the tavern full and the barmaid a sight for sore eyes: long, nutbrown hair, an almost angelic face with large, green eyes that stared at him with a doe-eyed expression and a lean body with just the right amount of round shapes in the right places to arouse his interest. Amongst other things. After two or three (or maybe five? He wasn't quite sure) mugs of the fine tasting brew, he felt just bold enough to ask her what her plans for the night were. And maybe, just maybe his fingers had found their way onto her well sized behind.

From there on, the evening had turned from great to ... well, not so great. Not that she did seem to mind. But some young, sturdy fella had suddenly turned up and asked him to leave, which of course he didn't. The boy didn't look like serious competition, much less a serious opponent. So he had pushed him. Not a smart move, he now admitted to himself, but it had seemed right at the time. Unfortunately, the boy hadn't been alone. Within seconds, the pretty barmaid (Nadienne, if he remembered correctly) had been snatched off by two of her barmaid-friends (though she did put up quite the fight) and five guys had been upon him, kicking and punching and (he really hoped he remembered falsely) … biting. He seemed to remember his answer to that kind of assault: "You bit me! Are you insane?" Then everything had turned into a blur of fighting and shouting and … drinking? Yeah, at some point he had actually managed to empty his sixth (or eighth?) mug of Ale before dealing out a lot of headaches and splintered teeth. But at one point one of the little buggers must've gotten to him. He had felt a sharp pain in the back of his head before registering a broken jug next to him. _What a waste!_ he had thought before passing out and landing right in the puddle of Ale.

Now he was lying in the stables. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, his … well, everything hurt. Some merciful soul must've have carried him out of the tavern after the fight and put him here to regain his senses. It was still dark outside, but he could make out a canteen with water standing next to him, which he emptied in one thirsty swig. Under it he found a small note, which was hard to read in the semi-darkness: _Meet me at dawn at the old mill. Nadienne._ He was just about to revise his opinion of this evening as he detected voices from outside the stable, coming closer. He didn't recognize them, but he decided to fake a sleeping state. Just in case. As they drew nearer, he could make out three different male voices. One was very deep, one sounded quite young and the last one was … cold, snarling, almost piercing. He shuddered imperceptibly at the sound of it.

"I want you to have everything ready tonight. There can be no mistake, Rogar" the cold voice said. The one spoken to, Rogar, rumbled some inaudible reply and asked: "And you're sure they will be taking this route?"

The young voice replied eagerly: "Yes, his servant told me."

"And there will be only the two of them?" Rogar wanted to know.

"Yes, just a minor hunt in the woods of Marbor. They have hunted there often. No need to bring guards."

At this he began to listen more carefully. The woods of Marbor were situated only a few miles South of Camelot and he began to wonder who the threesome was planning to trap. Sounded like some noble man and his servant, and as such it wasn't really of his concern. Unless of course that noble man was that arrogant blonde and his servant was someone he considered to be a dear friend. His only friend, actually. He pondered about that possibility for a moment, then concluded that it would have been too much of a coincidence if these thugs were planning on assaulting Merlin and Arthur. It would be best just to get some more sleep before his meeting with Nadienne that he was really looking forward to.

He had only just finished the thought when Cold Voice stated: "No mistakes, Rogar. We do not know when we will get another chance like this to capture the prince. We have waited too many years for this."

Gwaine let out a quiet sigh. He had been right about this night all along. It had just gone from not so great to bad.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur noticed that something was wrong a mere second before the impact. Somehow, he managed to duck under the thin, almost invisible line that had been strung up between two trees right next to the path he and Merlin had taken for their early morning hunt, and he even had the time to cry out a warning to his companion. Unfortunately, Merlin wasn't as dexterous as his master. Arthur heard a yelp of surprise that quickly turned into a pain filled gasp as the rope hit his young servant in the upper chest and catapulted him out of the saddle. "Merlin!" he called out, his voice high pitched with fear for his servant's life. He tried to signal his horse to stop, but the panic he felt inside when Merlin didn't answer as well as the thought of _who_ had put the rope there and _why_ seemed to signal something quite different to his mount: Run, run for your life! Arthur couldn't do anything else but to hold on, trying to soothe the horse, trying to somehow make it calm down, trying to make it stop, but what his words were unable to accomplish, the sudden explosion in front of the white stallion most certainly achieved: The horse came to an abrupt halt and then reared up in sheer panic. Arthur felt how his feet lost their grip on the stirrup irons and he was unable to keep his balance as the strong animal underneath him continued its flight with a frightened whinny. The ground came closer far too fast for Arthur's taste and even though he braced himself a heartbeat before the impact, the collision was a lot harder than he'd expected. He tried to protect his neck, head and his spine by rolling across his shoulder, causing his left side and especially his hip to react with an agonizing pain as his sheath was pressed painfully against his hip bone and something very sharp bored its way in between his ribs. Arthur bit back a moan of pain and scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible. No time to dwell on his injuries. Merlin's fall had been far more dangerous than his; he had to make sure he was alright! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something large and brown draw nearer and he managed to toss himself out of the way of Merlin's horse just in time to avoid the animal's flying hooves. Not good. No way to escape if they were attacked by those bastards who had placed the rope in their way.

A quiet moan caught his attention and he tried once more to make his way towards his servant, but again he had to stop. He'd heard something else as well. Sounds were coming from the undergrowth to both sides of the path. A rustling, accompanied by the occasional snapping of twigs under heavy feet. Whoever they were, they were approaching fast!

"Merlin!" Arthur called out and drew his sword in one swift motion. His left side still hurt, but he could attend to it later. Right now he had to keep a wary eye out on both sides of the thick forest. He was relieved to hear Merlin's voice – more of a croak really, but at least he was alive and conscious: "Y-yes, Sire?"

Still so formal, even after a fall like that. Under normal circumstances Arthur would have smiled at that fact, but unfortunately there was nothing _normal_ about their situation. "Merlin, listen closely. I want you to run. Run as fast as you can. I'll keep them at bay." His voice was much more confident than he felt and he finished the sentence in his mind, not allowing Merlin to see his doubts. _I'll keep them at bay as long as I can_. Them – he didn't even know who _they_ were, how many _they_ were or what _they_ wanted! He remembered the argument he had had with his father some days before, the argument about dangerous times and far too many bandits in the woods to hunt alone. Maybe he should have followed the King's order just this once. He knew that Merlin was in no condition to help him right now and wouldn't stand a chance in a sword fight, which made him nothing more than a burden.

"S-sire…" his servant protested as expected, but Arthur cut him short with a harsh gesture and turned around to emphasize his words with a sharp look. Relieved he noticed that Merlin was already on his feet and looked far better than he had expected.

"There will be no _but_, Merlin. That's an order!"

The rustling sound had come much closer and demanded his complete attention. No time for a discussion. He just had to hope Merlin wouldn't be so stupid as to try and help. Then they were upon him: Six enormous men clad in crude leather armor, armed with swords and clubs, broke out of the bushes on both sides of him and didn't leave him any more time to think about his servant's fate. Arthur parried the first blow skillfully and forced one of his attackers right back into the undergrowth, then he turned around quickly and managed to sidestep a forceful strike by another opponent. Attack, parry, parry, attack. He ducked away from another blow, carried out a swift full rotation and managed to give himself some air before the next round of attacks. The undergrowth on both sides became an important ally, as it prevented his adversaries from attacking him all at once, but still he was surrounded and every time he immobilized one of the bandits for a short time, another one took his place and left him no time to rest. It was only a matter of time until he had used all of his energy reserves. Still he continued to fight fiercely, dealing out strike after strike. It wasn't like these thugs left him any choice. Another parry, another attack, another narrow evasion. Finally a lucky hit: One of his attackers seemed to lose his focus and wasn't able to counter Arthur's swift charge, which left him lying badly wounded on the forest floor. Another one took his place and assaulted Arthur with a series of forceful blows with his club that forced him back towards another enemy. He could see the other man's unfair charge out of the corner of his eye, but was unable to react due to the giant in front of him that kept sending out blow after blow. Only a second later he paid for his slow response with a burning, paralyzing pain in his left arm. Fortunately, the first real hit one of his adversaries had landed seemed to let the others grow cocky, which gave Arthur another golden opportunity to bring down one more of his opponents. His sword slashed open the man's throat, but Arthur didn't have the time to enjoy the grim satisfaction of seeing him die – there were still four attackers left and he could feel how his body slowly tired out. Breathing became more strenuous and he was unable to use his left arm efficiently, causing his balance to act up. Only a matter of time, the obnoxious voice in his head told him. He sidestepped another blow, parried another strike, ducked once more and yelped in pain as he was hit in the back by a club. He stumbled forward and only avoided a direct blow to his head by sheer luck. His world slowly turned into a muddle of brown and green, tinted with silvery glitters, a chaos of pain and fear. Had Merlin escaped? He knew he couldn't afford the luxury of spending valuable focus on his servant, but yet the thoughts made their way to his mind and he was unable to stop them. Another blow, another parry. With satisfaction he saw how the tip of his sword plunged into the chest of the adversary in front of him. Only three more left. Maybe – just maybe – he stood a chance after all. These men had had the benefit of surprise, but they weren't real fighters. Or at least not very good ones, compared to a knight of Camelot. They lacked his training and skills and clearly they weren't able to use their considerable size against him. So maybe, if …

His train of thought was stopped violently by a strong voice that suddenly echoed across the battleground. Its words were so terrible that they seemed to pierce Arthur's marrow and bone and they halted his attacks at once.


	3. Chapter 3

Gwaine hadn't thought it possible, but his night had actually gone from bad to worse. Though he had been sure that he hadn't made a single treacherous sound during the thugs' entire conversation, once he had tried to reach his black stallion someone had whacked him over the head with something very hard and very heavy. Now, as he was slowly awakening, he could only explain his lack of alertness with the fact that the Ale had still been coursing through his veins and that he had been quite beaten up already. Still he cursed himself for not being more vigilant. It was already light outside, probably far past dawn, and he had neither met Nadienne nor managed to ride to the forest of Marbor in time to prevent whatever was about to happen out there. And his head still hurt like a battalion of dwarfs was working overtime. Great. Grunting and scrambling unceremoniously to his feet, Gwaine managed to saddle his horse rather fast despite his major hangover and the quite painful bruise on his temple. As he left the tavern's stable, he was startled to perceive that the sun had already risen far too high. Without further delay, he climbed into the saddle and spurred his horse, praying that he wasn't too late.

XXXXX

"Drop that tooth stick of yours or your friend dies."

Luckily for Arthur, the three remaining bandits paused their efforts too and thus gave him the possibility to capture the seriousness of his situation. Merlin hadn't escaped. He was kneeling on the path, his arms tied behind his back, his stare empty, almost glassy as if he was barely conscious. The man who had spoken was forcing him to stay upright by digging the fingers of his left hand into Merlin's full, dark hair. In his right hand he held a small dagger that pointed directly at his servant's throat. Arthur's heart seemed to skip a beat when he discovered blood on the weapon and on Merlin's neck. His gaze went higher and met the man's – probably the leader of these villains. He shuddered at the frosty darkness he had to discover inside these eyes. The man wasn't joking, that was for sure. For something that seemed like an eternity but couldn't have been more than a few seconds, Arthur just stared at the horrible sight, then he recalled what the leader had ordered him to do and dropped his sword. He had to use all his strength to mutter the next few words, and every single one of them stung painfully in his heart: "I … I give up. I surrender."

That must have been some kind of keyword for the other attackers. Within seconds two of the remaining giants lunged at him, grasped his arms and forced him brutally down on his knees. Every fiber in Arthur's body baulked at enduring this rough treatment without putting up one hell of a fight, but another look at his servant convinced him not to act rashly. There wasn't anything he could do right here and right now, and that thought made him want to scream in anger and frustration. But he didn't. He wasn't ready to give his enemies that kind of satisfaction. Gathering every grain of hate and despite in his gaze, he took another look at the leader. The man was older than him, maybe in his mid-forties, and not quite as tall as his henchmen. His face was rough and scarred, with cold blue eyes that seemed to have seen too much for one lifetime. His hair was at shoulder-length and deep black, though with streaks of grey at his temples. Right now his lips were curled into a satisfactory smile that deepened as he let go off Merlin and took a step towards Arthur. He didn't even bother to look as the young man fell to his side and hit his head on a large root.

"What… what have you done to him?" Arthur asked through clenched teeth. He hoped that the villains' leader hadn't done anything worse to his servant than knocking him out, but he couldn't know for sure. The only answer he got was a hard blow between his shoulder blades that would have catapulted him forward if it hadn't been for the two ruffians holding him.

The leader looked at him with an expression Arthur couldn't read, then produced a small piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket and stared at it with the same blank gaze.

"What… what do you want with me?" Arthur gasped, still recovering from the pain in his back. He didn't try to evade as the next punishment for his words came – a forceful punch to the back of his head. He was too worried about what the man would do to his servant if he resisted too much, but he needed answers. Who was that man? What did he want? Arthur wasn't quite sure, but he thought he had seen him before, a long, long time ago…

Finally, the man looked up from his piece of paper and spoke. "I don't want anything from you, Prince Arthur" he said surprisingly in that cold voice that made Arthur shiver. The explanation followed swiftly when the man held up the note and continued: "It's your father that has something I need."

Arthur understood immediately. That piece of paper was nothing more than a common ransom note, and he was nothing more than a common hostage. But Merlin didn't have to be mixed up in this. "I understand" he answered and bowed his head, still fighting against his pride. "If you would be so kind as to leave my servant out of this, I am sure we can come to an understanding."

"Don't worry" the leader answered in a cold tone of voice. "All I ask of him is to deliver this message to the King." The man looked down on Arthur's half-conscious servant and something in his look made Arthur shudder. "But maybe we should make sure that he won't lose it on the way."

Arthur's heartbeat accelerated at these words, every muscle in his body tensed. That was _not_ good. "He is a very responsible man" he hurried to say. "There is no need to harm him!" He could feel how the two thugs strengthened their grip on him. This was really, really bad! The leader walked back to Merlin and used his foot to turn him on his back. His servant moaned softly at the rough treatment, but he didn't open his eyes.

"I want you to deliver this message, boy" the leader whispered in Merlin's ear and placed the piece of paper on the younger man's shoulder. "Take good care of it."

Arthur tried to scurry to his feet when he saw the dagger reappearing in the leader's hand, tried to fight against the two men holding him, but he had to watch helplessly as the leader plunged the blade directly through the paper and into Merlin's shoulder. His servant's body reared up and a cry of pain pierced through Arthur's heart as the weapon cut through paper, leather and finally flesh.

"BASTARD!" he cried out and mobilized every last ounce of strength he had left in his body. Somehow he managed to break free from one of the ruffians, but the second one reacted quickly and used his own weight to bring Arthur back down to the ground. The air was knocked from his lungs, and his head dashed painfully against the hard forest floor, almost leaving him unconscious. He tried to struggle against the giant on top of him, but there was nothing he could do as the man grabbed his arms and brutally crossed them behind his back. The leader roared something, some kind of order that Arthur didn't understand with his loud, labored breathing and the sound of blood rushing through his veins, then he felt rough ropes around his wrists and arms that were bound far too tight to allow the blood to circulate freely. Finally the man let go off him and allowed him to breathe, and for a precious minute Arthur was too occupied with breathing to notice anything else. Then his thoughts came flooding back and he rolled over, trying to make out the lifeless form of his servant.

"Now" the leader said, sounding a lot more agitated than before, "you try that kind of stunt again and I will have to find someone else to deliver my message." Just to make his point, he lifted his right food and sent it crashing down on the hilt of the dagger in Merlin's shoulder. Another terrible scream left his servant's mouth, his eyes fluttered open and he stared with a mixture of mortal fear and confusion at the man above him. "You can thank your hotheaded master for that" the leader commented with the hint of a cruel smile before turning around and facing Arthur again. "Take him away" he ordered.

Though the mere thought of leaving Merlin alone and wounded almost was too much to bear, Arthur had learned his lesson. He swallowed every curse that tried to make its way out of his mouth along with his pride and allowed the bandits to help him to his feet and to lead him away into the forest without offering any resistance.

"Rogar" he heard the leader say before leaving the path. "Clean up this mess."


	4. Chapter 4

Arland was sure that this would be the end. After the prince had hit him directly in the stomach, he had had a wild hope that someone would help him as soon as the battle was over, but instead he had to watch in shock as Maridaen and Kevin went down too. Arland didn't understand what had happened. He was a good fighter, always had been, but shortly after they had engaged in the fight with their victim, he had felt unable to move for just a second. That second had been enough for the prince to run him through.

It hadn't been natural and he had suspected magic, but stemming from whom? Certainly not the prince! And that servant boy had been unconscious almost the entire time, so who had cast the spell? His gaze, blurry due to the tears in his eyes, had wandered across the path to their employer, whom he and the others simply had called Scar, as no name had been spoken. Then he knew that there had been foul play at work. Scar had looked back at him, just for a second, with a quite content stare. He had been betrayed. Unfortunately, Arland couldn't use any of this knowledge anymore. His stomach was burning, and he could feel how he lost far too much blood with every passing second. As he had feared, no one treated his wound once the prince had been captured. Instead he heard Scar say in his cold voice: "Rogar. Clean up this mess."

Rogar had been the man making first contact and telling Arland and the others of his master's plan. Scar's words could only mean one thing: The giant of a man, who even surpassed Kevin in terms of height, was supposed to make sure that no witnesses were left alive. Arland wasn't sure that he stood a chance, but as he could neither move nor fight, he decided to simply play dead and hope for the best. He had closed his eyes and tried to breathe as shallowly as possible, listening intently to the giant's footsteps. He was walking past Maridaen right now, kneeling down in front of him. With a satisfied sound, he got back up and strode towards Kevin.

To Arland's surprise, Kevin hadn't died from the sword wound. As Rogar approached him, he could hear Kevin cough in pain, then his friend said: "H-help me… W-we… we had a deal…"

Apparently Kevin was thinking the same thing: Why not at least trying to tend to their wounds? Arland, however, was not stupid enough to open his mouth to ask. He could hear a short, guttural laughter, then Rogar answered: "Oh, don't you worry. You are still fulfilling your part of the agreement."

Again Kevin coughed and his voice trailed off when he once more tried to acquire information about the reason behind his death. "B-but … why…?"

Rogar didn't answer him, but Arland knew enough to understand that his death had been part of the plan all along. He just hoped that Deverell and the others would be smart enough to figure that one out by themselves and take revenge. He held his breath as Rogar used the broadsword to end Kevin's life, and the young man's agonizing scream echoed long and threateningly in his ears. He was next.

He drew in a last, deep breath as he heard how Rogar turned around and faced him, then he just lay completely still and waited. Seconds went by. He was far too aware of his own heartbeat, but there was nothing he could do to calm it down. Half a minute. _Please don't take a closer look_, he pleaded. _Oh please, please, please_! How long could he hold his breath? One minute went by. He could feel the giant kneeling next to him, he could almost feel his breath on his skin, he …

"You think you can fool me?"

Arland yelped in surprise, then cried out in pain as Rogar's sword plunged into his stomach. The pain was immense, but he neither passed out nor did he die, as he – and apparently the giant – had assumed. With watery eyes he looked at his attacker and earned some kind of annoyed smile.

By now Arland knew without a doubt that he was going to die, but not without the answer he was looking for: "T-that… that was magic… wasn't it?" Blood was filling his mouth now, tasting like disgustingly sweet iron. "Y-you… paralyzed m-me."

"My Lord did" Rogar commented with a grim smile and pushed the sword deeper into the wound without killing him, but causing him so much pain that Arland was about to black out. "It hadn't been necessary, though. The prince did a pretty good job taking you out himself."

Through a haze of pain Arland wondered why the giant didn't finish him off like he had finished off Kevin. The next sentence from his adversary answered his unspoken question and confirmed his notion of Rogar being the sadistic type.

"If there's nothing more, have a nice and slow death" the giant said with a crooked grin and turned away.

XXXXX

When he saw the two horses, Gwaine knew without a doubt that he had come too late. He had just made it to the outskirts of Marbor forest, when a magnificent white stallion and a beautiful brown mare came thundering out of the woods as if they had the devil in them. He instantly recognized Arthur's mount and suspected that the other one had to be Merlin's. Gwaine swore under his breath and forced his own horse to gallop even faster, for once ignoring the strain he put the animal through.

As he drew closer, the two horses stopped dead in their tracks and seemed to consider whether it would be better to turn around. Only seconds later they continued their way towards him – whatever had happened to them inside the forest, it had most certainly scared the hell out of them. But by now their vigor had ceased and Gwaine could catch their headgear easily as he passed them by. Who knew, maybe he got lucky and their masters were able to ride them back to Camelot. Or, an obnoxious voice hissed inside his mind, he would have to use the horses to carry them back.

The forest brushed by fast as Gwaine once more spurred his horse, the other two following suit. He had no idea where inside the forest the men had planned to trap Arthur and Merlin, but discovering their horses on this main path leading through the dense woods let him hope that they would be easy to find. But first minutes passed by, then half an hour without any sign of life, and Gwaine was about to wonder whether the horses had taken a path of their own through the undergrowth, when he recognized figures lying on the path in the distance. He brought his horse to an abrupt halt and tried to take in the scene that acted out in front of him. Three large men were laying spread eagled on the ground, all of them looking suspiciously dead with large puddles of blood underneath them and around them. As Gwaine approached them, he saw that one had died due to a cut throat, his eyes wide in disbelief as he exhaled one last time and drowned in his own blood. The second one had been stabbed through the chest, and the third one had died from a nasty wound in the stomach. Two different wounds, actually, which was weird, and … Gwaine blinked … he seemed to be alive after all! He jumped out of his saddle and was at the man's side within a heartbeat. As he looked at the ugly wound in his belly, Gwaine knew that the man was only minutes from actually passing away and there was nothing he could do. Not that he had wanted to out of the goodness of his heart – but maybe this thug knew something about the outcome of the battle that must have taken place here.

The man's eyes were glassy and his whole body was shuddering as if suffering from a high fever. Probably an infection from the open wound, Gwaine pondered. The bandit didn't seem to perceive that someone was standing hunched over him, but when Gwaine cleared his throat, he looked in his direction and tried to say something that was inaudible to Gwaine's ears. "I'm sorry - what?" he asked and crouched down beside the dying man. There was just one word he understood, and that sounded like … eagle? Well, the last words of someone dying a horribly painful death seldom made sense. Still, he hoped that maybe he could get just one straight answer out of the guy and asked: "What happened here? Where's the prince?" It was a wild guess – if this man had actually taken part in abducting prince Arthur and his servant, then why would he tell a complete stranger about their whereabouts? But what else could he do?

"E-eagle" the man said again and pointed to his right into the woods. "Has him."

Eagle has him? Now _that_ was really useful! Gwaine rolled his eyes, then stared at him for a few seconds before trying a different approach: "Who is eagle?"

"S-silver eagle" the man whispered. "B-betrayed me."

Great, did that mean that the thugs couldn't agree internally or was there something else going on? Gwaine was about to ask another question when the man suddenly started to cough violently, spitting blood on his hand and chest. Wouldn't be too long now. "The silver eagle …" he began. "Has he taken the prince and his servant?"

The man shook his head and Gwaine was about to sigh helplessly, as just one useful piece of information left the man's mouth: "Only… prince. Other one… messenger." He pointed in a different direction this time, towards Camelot, and Gwaine turned around to follow his outstretched finger with his gaze when a violent convulsion shook the man's body. He jerked up, coughing again, and Gwaine could see something not too appetizing glinting mushy white where the wounds were located. Must have been much deeper than he had assumed before. A wonder the man hadn't died already. Another cough, more blood, then the man fell back heavily and lay completely still. Gwaine closed the bandit's eyelids before standing up and turning around to face the indicated direction.

That was when he saw him. With one lightning-fast movement he was at his friend's side, unable to believe how he could have missed Merlin laying only a few feet further down the path, only partly hidden by trampled undergrowth.

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted and fell down on one knee, already reaching out for his friend to help him up when he discovered the dagger placed viciously deep inside the younger man's shoulder. A piece of paper had been pinned down with the weapon. His heart seemed to skip a beat and he feared the worst, but then he saw how Merlin's breast was slowly moving up and down – he was breathing! _Messenger_, Gwaine thought bitterly now that he understood the dead man's words. A quite brutal way to ensure the delivery took place. His fingers touched the weapon gently, closing around it carefully as not to cause his friend any more pain just yet. He had to remove it and attend to the wound, but it would hurt – a lot. He could feel anger rising inside him, burning hot and dangerously. The dead thug could praise himself lucky that he had died already and maybe not so painful after all. It was nothing compared to what Gwaine had in mind to take vengeance for what had been done to his friend. "I am sorry" he whispered, not sure whether Merlin could hear him, and pulled out the dagger in one swift motion. Fortunately Merlin seemed to be deeply unconscious – a soft moan escaped his lips, but then he lay still again. Gwaine didn't waste any time trying to wake his friend; that could wait until later. First he had to cut off the rope around Merlin's wrists, then clean his wound, which he did with water from a flask. Finally he had to bandage the shoulder wound tightly in order to prevent further blood loss. It took him only a few minutes to finish his work professionally, before he finally leaned back and examined his friend for other wounds that needed medical care. Apart from a nasty bump on the back of his head, a minor cut on his throat and an ugly bruise across his chest, he seemed to be unharmed. Not that that calmed Gwaine down. What had been done to his young friend had been terrible enough and he would make sure those responsible would pay dearly. Those responsible… Gwaine sighed and looked at the bloody note for the first time:

_25,000 gold pieces. Midnight one week from now at the Gnarled Oak. No guards, no tricks._

So Arthur had been abducted for money. Quite the common reason, though all that talk of a silver eagle made it a lot more interesting. But what silver eagle? His gaze returned to the battleground, taking in the rope that had been tied across the road (nasty trap!), then shifting towards the three battered, dead men – courtesy of the crown prince before the rest of the gang had brought him down, if he wasn't completely mistaken. If there was one thing Gwaine knew about Arthur, it was that the prince – all lordliness aside – knew how to put up a fight (though Gwaine would never admit that to his face). Not that it had done him any good. If he hadn't just had to bandage a rather painful wound that had been inflicted on someone he considered to be his only real friend, Gwaine might have smiled just one tiny, mischievous smile at Arthur's misfortune (he was a noble man, after all!). But what had been done to Merlin had been far too serious for that kind of behavior. Well, maybe once they found that arrogant excuse for a prince there would be a time and a place for some kind of a gloating grin.

Another moan caught Gwaine's attention and he looked down at Merlin, who stared at him with dark, troubled eyes and muttered "A-Arthur… is he alright?".

Gwaine chose not to answer that question. Most likely Arthur was far from alright (if nothing else his pride would have taken a serious blow from this incident) and he didn't want to upset Merlin more than absolutely necessary. Furthermore he wasn't sure whether the boy would have heard him: His stare broke after no more than two, maybe three heartbeats and he closed his eyes once more, drifting back into unconsciousness.

Gwaine stared at the blood drenched note one more time and waited patiently until his friend came to again. He was afraid to move him, which could have caused the wound to burst open, so he decided to give him at least a few hours rest for his body and mind to recover. For now they were safe here with the three horses tied securely to a tree close to them and the villains responsible for this probably miles away. Those who had made it out alive, anyways. The only thing he had to watch out for was guards from Camelot, but he doubted that Uther would have sent anybody to search for his son just yet.

He didn't really miss the large city and the impressive castle, but right now he really cursed the fact that he had been exiled. That would make it a lot more complicated to get Merlin back home to Gaius. But he had to try. This was his best friend lying next to him, and besides, he knew Merlin would do the exact same for him. Maybe if he found some kind of cloak. And of course they would have to bring the horses and those bandits. Gwaine shook his head, wiping these thoughts away and wondering what Nadienne was doing right now. She was probably angry, maybe disappointed. Ah well, when this was over he would most certainly head back anyways. But right now getting Merlin back to Camelot and finding Arthur were top priority.


	5. Chapter 5

It took Merlin more than a few hours to wake up, but when he finally regained consciousness he sat up with a start and scrambled to his feet before Gwaine was able to stop him.

"What… how… where…?" he muttered and stared at the three bodies next to them before he discovered his friend leaning against a tree.

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty" Gwaine countered instead of answering any of the implied questions: What happened? How did you get here? Where is Arthur? Merlin stared at him in disbelief and for a second, the older man almost enjoyed that look of total confusion on his friend's face. Then he remembered that Merlin most likely wasn't in the mood for games, so he stood up and said without the sarcasm: "Are you alright?" When Merlin just nodded, not even looking at his wounded shoulder, he decided to discuss the matter of Merlin's sore point – Arthur – first. "I take it you've been assaulted by a group of six, maybe seven men", he began. "You were taken out of the equation by that nasty trap up there" he pointed at the rope still hanging over the path "and Arthur fought … well … bravely, I guess, until someone used you as leverage and persuaded him to stand down. They … ahem … _left_ you a note for Uther and took Arthur with them. How am I doing so far?"

The confusion in Merlin's dark eyes was replaced by something that resembled fear, so Gwaine continued without awaiting an answer. "I don't know where Arthur is at present, but I found you after overhearing three men speaking about the ambush."

Merlin stared at him as if he didn't quite understand what Gwaine was saying. Well, it was a lot to take in at once, Gwaine had to admit. "But don't worry" he continued as Merlin didn't answer. "We'll find him." For now that statement seemed to calm his friend down just a bit, because he nodded and changed the subject, though the fear was still present in his gaze and he seemed to have to fight fiercely to pull himself together, and who was Gwaine to blame him? Uther wouldn't be all too pleased once the boy returned _without_ his master and _with_ a ransom note.

"Did you…" Merlin looked at his bare chest and the bandaged shoulder. "… treat my wound?"

Gwaine gave him a warm smile. "Yeah, you were messing up the place with all that blood" he replied without sharing his thoughts about Uther. That could wait until later.

"T-thanks." Merlin looked around uneasily, obviously not sure what to do with himself and the whole situation.

"So…" Gwaine tried again. "Was that pretty much your story or did I miss anything?" He wasn't surprised when Merlin nodded – the signs of what had happened here had been extremely hard to miss.

"Yes, we were ambushed." Merlin's knees weakened and he reluctantly accepted Gwaine's help as the older man steadied him and helped him sit down again.

"Easy, you lost a lot of blood. Don't strain yourself."

With the hint of a smile Merlin leaned back and began telling about his morning so far.

XXXXX

A few minutes later, Gwaine held up the ransom note once more, wondering who had the boldness to abduct Camelot's prince and demand ransom for him. Whoever they were, they certainly must know that Uther would hang, draw and quarter them for their insolence once he got a hold of them. Which, of course, made Gwaine think that they had one hell of a plan that most certainly didn't imply getting caught by the King. He sighed and read the words aloud again. Merlin seemed to think quite gloomy thoughts, but he looked a lot better than when Gwaine had first found him.

"We have to find him" his friend said after Gwaine had finished. "How far do you think they've made it by now?"

Gwaine shrugged and took another bite of the bread he had brought with him. It was dry and tasteless, but at least it was filling and gave him a good excuse to wash it down with more tasty Ale. "Hard to say. We don't even know their goal. If they had horses somewhere they could have made it all the way to the border by now." He saw how panic flickered in Merlin's eyes at these words, so he made a soothing sound and added: "But we don't even know if they have made for the border. Maybe they have a hideout close by. Maybe someone knows these three …" He pointed at the dead thugs. "… and can tell us who they work for. Right now we need to get you back to Cammy so the old man can have a look at you. You took quite the beating." At that he grinned encouragingly and managed to raise a thin smile from Merlin's lips. The younger man nodded and used the tree trunk behind him as a support to get up. "Then let's roll" Gwaine said. "We've got a princ_ess_ to rescue."

XXXX

As they made their way back to the castle on Gwaine's horse, the three dead bandits securely tied to Arthur's and Merlin's horses, Merlin tried to recall what had happened. The whole incident was a blur of fear and pain, and now a feeling of despair tried to mix itself up with all of the other emotions. He had failed Arthur. He had one task, one task only, and that was to protect the prince until he would become the new King of Camelot, and yet he had been unable to fulfill his duty and thereby his destiny. He clearly remembered how they had left the stable, how the young stable boy had wished them a successful hunt, how Arthur had commented on Merlin's failed attempt to mount the quite feisty mare the stable boy had chosen for him. Just his kind of luck. Merlin had asked how wise it was to leave Camelot alone against the King's orders and Arthur had merely laughed, saying something like "You worry too much, Merlin." But then… they had entered the forest and … Arthur had called out to him. The next thing he remembered was a terrible pain in his chest and throat that made it almost impossible for him to breathe, soon followed by an aching sting in his back as he hit the forest floor. He must have been unconscious for a few moments, because the next thing he perceived was Arthur calling his name. He couldn't recall how he got on his feet or managed to answer the prince, probably just routine. They were under attack, that much had been obvious, but he didn't even have the time to use his magic to protect himself or his ward. Another sharp pain, this time against the back of his head, had taken him out cold. After that, pain was the only thing he remembered, apart from a short flash of Arthur's face, bloody and distorted by anguish. Large, blue eyes filled with worry. Then more pain. Then Gwaine's face that didn't quite fit into his memories, until he finally understood that his friend had actually come to his aide and wasn't just some figment of his mind.

He had failed Arthur. That was the only thought that kept him company as they rode through the forest. He knew Gwaine was just waiting for him to speak up, to share his thoughts, but the pain was still so deep inside of him that he didn't know what to say. His friend probably thought he was pondering about what to tell Uther when they got back, and Merlin had to agree that that would have been a very logical idea indeed. But the only thing that kept coming to his mind was Arthur's worried gaze and the stinging sensation of having failed him. He didn't know where his friend was by now, didn't know how badly he was hurt and what the kidnappers were going to do to him. He sighed and leaned back for a moment to relax his aching body. Gwaine didn't seem to mind, and Merlin could feel how his friend tried to shift himself into a different pose to make the position more comfortable for him.

"You know, I think I should tell Uther what happened while Gaius fixes you up" Gwaine finally proposed after a few minutes without even the slightest hint of irony, confirming Merlin's thoughts. Though he was thankful for the support, he shook his head and answered quietly: "I don't think that would make my case any better. On the contrary."

"Maybe not" Gwaine conceded with a smirk that Merlin couldn't see, but somehow just _felt_. "But at least I might stand a chance against him once he tries to attack the messenger."

At that Merlin couldn't help but smile. "Thanks" he said anyways. He knew Gwaine couldn't just waltz into Camelot, much less speak to Uther without being thrown into the dungeons or worse, but he really appreciated the notion. Still somehow they would have to smuggle Gwaine into Camelot and somehow he would have to tell a worried father that his son wouldn't return just yet…

Merlin's heartbeat accelerated as he saw the white walls of Camelot emerging in the distance, and he noticed thankfully how Gwaine put one hand on his good shoulder and squeezed it encouragingly. He felt lucky to have a friend like Gwaine, but right now that didn't help him bring Arthur back.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur sighed and tugged tentatively at the chains holding him, but of course they wouldn't budge. Well, what did he expect? That his adversaries would leave their guard down all of a sudden? The abduction had been planned very carefully, and though they obviously hadn't expected him to fight back as desperately (the leader didn't seem to be too pleased with three dead henchmen), they had stuck to their plan professionally after leaving the bodies and the unconscious manservant behind. A swift walk through the forest had led to a small clearing where horses had been waiting for them. Arthur had been thrown not too gently on the back of one of the animals and had gasped in pain as the ribs on his left side piped up once his breast and belly connected with the hard saddle. One of the men had tied him to the tack; another one had gagged him with a ragged piece of cloth that tasted like something the cat had dragged home. He still hadn't put up any resistance. As long as they were close to Merlin it would be safer just to comply, as hard as it was. He wondered how his servant was – the leader had seemed pretty sure that the young man would survive long enough to make the trip to Camelot, but the wound had looked quite serious. There had been a lot of blood.

Arthur was still surprised at all the details of the plan. How had the bandits known where to set up their trap? How had they known that it would only be him and his servant on this hunt? How did they expect to transport him all the way to their hideout without risking discovery? At least that last part had been revealed far too fast for Arthur's taste: Once they had reached a large road, a small chariot had waited for them. It was a shabby black and silver, like the leather armor his captors were wearing, with the emblem of a flying eagle on each side. The driver up front was wearing clothes matching these colors. Though the crest looked familiar, Arthur was unable to remember where he had seen it before. But it had to be of noble origin. Arthur had been freed from his uncomfortable position, only to be tossed into the chariot. The giant, Rogar, who by now had caught up with them, had followed him inside while the leader had given orders for the others to return to their posts – whatever that meant. The chariot had been set into motion and Arthur had tried to bring himself into an upright position, but was rewarded with a brutal kick in the stomach. This time he could feel how at least one of the ribs broke and he had to use all his self-control to stifle a cry. "Stay down" Rogar had said, a quite sadistic grin on his lips. Even if Arthur had wished to ignore his order, he wouldn't have been able to. For the next hour or so he was far too occupied with breathing as slowly (and, coincidentally, as less painful) as possible, focusing solely on the air filling and leaving his lungs. He had had a broken rib before, but it had been treated almost instantly by Gaius with pain killing herbs and lots and lots of rest – not with an unnatural position at the bottom of a rocking chariot.

After a while the exhaustion and the loss of blood had enforced their rightful claim against him, and Arthur had drifted into a light, dreamless sleep, only awaking every now and then when the chariot passed uneven ground and made his ribs remind him of the state he was in.

The journey couldn't have taken more than a few hours, but Arthur had been unable to guess neither direction nor distance, which meant he had absolutely no idea where he was being held. Rogar had blindfolded him before leaving the chariot, leaving him with a feeling of complete helplessness at being bereft one of his senses. He had then been led into some kind of house and down a flight of stairs with the air growing colder with every step. A door had been opened, heavy by the sound of it. They had continued for maybe a minute, passing another door, until Arthur had been pushed against a cold stone wall. His hands, feeling numb by now, had been untied, but the single thought of escape that came to his mind was thwarted by the clanging sound of shackles, soon followed by a vice like grip that forced his arms up above his head. The chains were placed around his wrists and the sound of the key being turned in its lock accompanied his last hope for a lucky getaway as it crawled into the back of his mind. Despair tried to creep in its place, but Arthur managed to fight it down. He was still alive and would stay that way for a while until his kidnapper had received message from the King. Finally the gag and the blindfold had been removed and Rogar had said: "I hope you won't enjoy your stay." Arthur hadn't bothered answering. He was rather sure that his _stay_ would be one of the most uncomfortable experiences to date and he didn't want to give the man a chance to rub salt into that wound. His captor obviously hadn't expected him to answer. He'd simply stood up and left him in the almost complete darkness of his cell, closing the door behind him with a sinister thud.

That had been several hours ago, maybe even longer. He had lost track of time. Once more Arthur tried to free himself, more out of boredom than anything else. His eyes had gotten used to the dim light and allowed him to take a closer look at his surroundings, which hadn't been very encouraging. He had been tied to a wall at the far end of some old wine cellar that apparently hadn't been used in a while, though the chains that held him looked quite new. Above him, he could make out the outline of a window barred by wooden boards that only allowed a few stray beams of light to pass. Empty barrels were lying and standing everywhere, veiled by thick spider webs and dust. Opposite of him, he could just make out the large wooden door they had come through. Old torches were still in place on the walls. Apart from this charming interior, the cellar was empty. And cold. By now Arthur was freezing, his body shuddering on its own every so often. The chains were long enough to allow him to sit down, but in order to stay warm he had to move, which he did with regular intervals despite the pain his ribs caused him at every movement. His mouth was dry and tasted of something dead and furry, and his head felt like some giant had hit him with a club. No surprise there. He sighed again and sank back on the stone floor for another cold minute. This would be a long, long stay, he feared.

Had Merlin made it back to Camelot? Had his father already sent soldiers to the place of the abduction? God, he hoped his father wouldn't wreak his anger for Arthur's neglect to comply with the King's orders on the young manservant. His friend. Arthur still felt uncomfortable at this thought – how on earth could he have befriended a mere servant? – but he and Merlin had been through so much together that any other choice of word would have been an insult. Merlin had saved his life more times than he cared to remember, and he had more than once been ready to sacrifice his own life in order to keep the young man safe. When his captor had threatened to hurt and to kill Merlin, Arthur hadn't even thought twice about yielding. When the dagger had forced its way through Merlin's shoulder, Arthur had felt the stinging pain like his own. He couldn't explain this … bond between them, but he knew that it was too late to turn back. His life and that of his servant had been irrevocably entwined the day they had met so many years ago.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key being turned. Arthur leaned back and tried to take a relaxed position with one arm resting on his knee and his head held high. He might be a prisoner, cold and miserable, but he was still the crown prince of Camelot, and as such he wouldn't allow his emotions to show. Not yet, anyways. He knew that there was a limit to his self-control, but luckily he hadn't been pushed that far before and hopefully he wouldn't be this time either.

The door was opened, and for a few heartbeats Arthur was blinded by the bright torchlight. He blinked, trying to make out details about the two figures that now entered the cellar, but they remained blurry until his eyes had gotten used to the new conditions. One of them, Rogar, lit two of the old torches, while the other one – the leader, as Arthur could now see – approached him with firm strides. He raised an eyebrow as he looked down on his prisoner – apparently he had expected a different sight – and said in his cold voice: "You look far too comfortable." Arthur conjured forth a lopsided smile and replied: "Such cozy surroundings, such lively company. What's not to enjoy?" The man was clearly not amused. "I'm not here to play games, boy." Arthur's pride reared up at him being called a 'boy', but he forced himself to stay calm. It wouldn't change anything if he reacted responsive to the man's insults; worst case scenario it would make it more unpleasant for himself. "Then why are you here, _Sir_?" he countered instead, making the last word sound more like an insult than a title. "As I see it, you already have what you want."

The man – Scar Face, Arthur decided to call him – grunted and shook his head. "Not quite" he disagreed.

Now it was Arthur's turn to raise an eyebrow. "It you are referring to those three dead idiots, then maybe you should hire some better fighters next time." At that Arthur couldn't help but smile challengingly. He was, however, surprised to see that Scar Face kept a straight face.

"You're right. I shouldn't have underestimated you. But that wasn't what I was referring to."

By now, Arthur was really confused. He had caught him, he had sent a ransom note to the King, so what more could he possibly want from him? "Then what…?" he started, his tone of voice much less self-assured than before.

"Your broken ribs, for starters" Scar Face replied readily and gave Rogar an annoyed look at that, which the servant returned with a shrug and a crooked smiled. „Not as optimal as I had hoped" the leader continued and his face finally showed a reaction at Arthur's bewildered gaze – a mixture of amusement and self-satisfaction. His broken ribs? That didn't make any sense. At all! He looked at Scar Face questioningly, for a few seconds forgetting his pride, but his opponent was already changing the subject: "And secondly, I need some answers."

For a moment Arthur was sure that his captor had lost his mind. Broken ribs? Answers? But then he remembered how well planned his abduction had been, how every detail – apart from three dead bandits – had been in place. Maybe this wasn't just about money, as he had first assumed. Maybe the plan didn't end with him being imprisoned in a wine cellar until word from his father arrived. He tried to gather his thoughts and forced himself to calm down, then asked in a more firm voice: "What do you want to know?" His gaze was fixed upon the cold, blue eyes of his enemy, his mind trying feverishly to interpret the man's poker face.

The answer wasn't at all what he had expected and for half an eternity he just stared at Scar Face in disbelief. The man couldn't be serious! But as seconds and finally a minute went by and his adversary's stern look didn't falter, Arthur understood that Scar Face was deadly serious. Eventually he managed to bring forth a reply through clenched teeth: "You'll have to find someone else then." He had expected Scar Face to distort his face in anger, maybe to command Rogar to punch or kick him, but unfortunately the man seemed to be far too delighted by his words than Arthur would have liked. That couldn't be good.

"I'd rather hoped that you would choose the hard way" he commented with a vicious grin. Icy cold fingers spread out through Arthur's stomach and he had to force himself once more to breathe calmly. He wouldn't like what was to follow, of that he was sure…

"Let's see how long you will be able to stay true to your decision" Scar Face said and drew a small dagger.


	7. Chapter 7

Uther wasn't angry when Merlin returned to Camelot. He was furious. If it hadn't been for Gaius, who was holding him upright, talking calmly to the King, he would have feared for his life. Maybe he should have taken Gwaine's offer, Merlin thought, unable to keep the fear from distorting his delicate features. But Gwaine wasn't here right now – he was hiding in Merlin's chamber, probably as nervous about his friend's fate as Merlin was himself.

"Why on earth didn't you take the guards with you as I commanded?" Uther yelled. "How could you have been so irresponsible?" Merlin decided not to answer and just to wait it out. Yes, Arthur had disobeyed a direct order, but still… They had been on lots of hunts before this one, just the prince and him, and if nothing had happened today, Uther probably wouldn't have bothered to comment on that decision. Right now it wasn't the King speaking, it was his fear for his son's life and his frustration at being helpless in the face of this threat. Merlin knew exactly how he felt, but unfortunately he was a mere servant without the luxury of being able to show his emotions freely and to act on them. There was no one to blame for what had happened (except the kidnappers, of course), but Uther needed a scapegoat and his son's manservant had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gaius had to know this too, though he seemed to ignore this knowledge in order to protect Merlin.

"Sire" he tried once more, "let us not dwell on what could have been done differently, but focus our efforts on finding prince Arthur and bringing him home safely."

A very logical approach, Merlin pondered. The King, however, seemed to be deaf to all logic and reasoning. "Don't you dare defend their foolishness!" Uther thundered. „Their recklessness is inexcusable!"

Somehow Merlin was glad that Uther decided to draw Arthur into this too; maybe that meant that his punishment would be something quite enjoyable like the stocks or a flogging – as opposed to being hanged, burned alive or quartered by wild horses. Although he probably would have deserved such punishment, considering his failure.

"And as you can see, my Lord" Gaius began again, "they have paid dearly." At that he pointed at Merlin's shoulder. Though the old man had cleaned the wound and put a new bandage on it, blood had already stained the young servant's uniform. He still felt quite weak and his knees seemed almost unable to support his weight. Whether it was from physical or mental exhaustion he couldn't say. "Let us not linger on accusations" Gaius continued. "Accusations won't return your son."

Merlin had a hard time believing it: The King finally nodded! He could see the anger still burning in his eyes, but now he seemed to be able to control it. "Very well" Uther spoke. "We will return to the matter of the boy's punishment later." His hand closed around the ransom note and Merlin could see how the veins on the back of his hand stood out in a distinctive blue as the King tensed his muscles. "Sir Leon" he said, concentrating his attention on the blonde knight standing behind Merlin and Gaius. Merlin sighed inaudibly once he felt the King's focus shift away from him. He hadn't hesitated one second concerning the delivery of the ransom note, but he had to admit, he had been afraid of Uther's reaction. Though Gwaine had looked completely earnest when offering him to help, he knew that he could never allow his friend to return to the court. This had been something he had had to do himself.

"Thank you, my Lord" Gaius said and bowed, forcing Merlin down with him. Then he whispered in his young apprentice's ear: "We better get out of here, right now." With Uther's attention still fixed on his knights, the two men hurried out of the throne room, passing a worried looking Gwen and the Lady Morgana, who just stared at them blankly.

XXXXX

He had to admit, the boy was tough. Once again he brought down the whip and let it crash violently on the prince's back, enjoying his victim's barely stifled cry and the dark red color that appeared where the leather string had hit him. Whoever had said revenge wasn't sweet was a fool. He clearly felt a satisfying warmth in his heart as he used his weapon once more. This time, the prince let out an almost inaudible whimper, which meant that he was nearing his goal.

"How about those answers?" he asked mockingly and smiled to himself as the boy turned his body around as far as the chains would allow it. His eyes were red with the hint of a glistening tear in one corner, but his gaze was still firm and decisive. He wasn't even close to being broken.

"My decision remains the same" the prince hissed through gritted teeth and followed up on his quite formal reply with a not-so-formal curse.

He raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise. "Mind your tone, boy."

"Why, what are you going to do?" the prince shot back, blinking the single tear away. "Flog me? Oh wait." And – he couldn't believe it! – at that the boy actually found the gall to grin! As he stared at his prisoner in awe, he could suddenly recognize a younger Uther in the prince's elegant features, a younger and much more _human_ Uther. Someone he had once called 'friend'. But then the memory of what had happened washed over him with brutal force, and he decided to ease _his_ pain by inflicting it on Uther's boy instead. "I…" he began and let the whip collide with the prince's bare back. "… want …" One more time, as hard as he could. "… answers!" Again, and this time so hard that the boy finally, _finally_ let out an anguished cry. In spite of that, this time, he didn't stop. This time he let his rage control him, continuing with a fiery vigor that was fuelled by his hate for Uther Pendragon and everything he had done to him and his family. He didn't stop until he had to catch his breath from the strain he was putting his aged body through. Had the boy screamed? Cried out? Begged him to stop? He couldn't remember. And he didn't care. It was Uther's son, after all, and as such he had to pay. He looked at the prince's back, nothing more than a bloody mess that had to hurt like hell. The boy was staring into the wall in front of him, not moving and only breathing shallowly, but he could tell that his prisoner was still conscious by the way his muscles were tensed. As the sound of blood rushing through his ears faded and allowed him to listen closely, he could hear silent sobs, but apparently he hadn't been broken yet. Incredible. And very unfortunate, as they hadn't time for this – his plan (as much as he enjoyed this particular detail) had counted on getting the answers he needed quickly, but again he had underestimated the prince. If he had known that the boy would actually manage to take out three of his hired henchmen, he wouldn't have used what little magic he had to paralyze that idiot Arland. As much as he despised these bandits, there had been no need for all three of them to die. And now it seemed he had underestimated the prince's willingness to share information with him. Well, he had other methods, more painful by far…

XXXXX

Arthur tried to fight back the tears, but after the tenth hit it was impossible. His body shuddered in fear every time Scar Face pulled back the whip, awaiting to hear the next cracking sound that would bring with it the next burning sensation on his already battered back. At last – he hadn't been able to count any more – the savage treatment came to an end, giving him the chance to re-gather his self-control. He had been in pain before – hell, he had been through quite an ordeal in his young life – but this was different. The fear was about to rip away all his logical sense, blackening out everything else, and Arthur had to cling desperately to that last thought of what would happen if he were to answer Scar Face's questions truthfully. No, he didn't know the man's full plan, but he had a qualified guess, which wouldn't allow him to tell anything Scar Face wanted to hear.

_Then don't_, a small voice in his head told him. _Lie! Just lie! Make him stop!_

Arthur knew that sooner or later he would break, which lent quite a substance to his thoughts. Already he was prepared to do just about anything to make Scar Face stop, apart from telling him what he wanted to know. So maybe lying wasn't that bad an idea… Though he had to do it convincingly, which meant holding out just a bit longer. He wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do that. He had never been this far out, had never had to endure torture, so he knew nothing about how he would react to whatever Scar Face had in store for him next. But he knew he had to try. The dagger cutting his skin and flesh had been terrible enough, almost causing him to break there and then, but then Scar Face had ordered his henchman to turn Arthur around and give him the whip instead. The first three strikes had been bearable, the next three just a bit worse, but after that the pure sensation of pain had taken over. Arthur could feel how his skin was torn from his back, and he was almost glad he couldn't see the wounds. So what, he wondered, did Scar Face have in store for him now? If he could just take it a minute or two, that would be enough to make his lie sound convincing. Just one minute…

XXXXX

Arthur felt the giant's hands on his wrists, as Scar Face's henchman unlocked the chains holding him once more and turned him around again, pressing his bloody back against the wall. That was all it took – Arthur screamed in sheer anguish, a loud, desperate cry that made Scar Face smile grimly. The cold, rough stone burned so tremendously that Arthur almost blacked out from the pain alone. The tears kept welling up and he now allowed them to flow freely. Even if he had wanted to fight them, he wouldn't have been able to in his current state.

"Answers?" Scar Face asked hopefully. He was holding something in his hands that Arthur couldn't discern through the veil of tears at first, something small, made out of some dark material. A … pair of… pliers? That couldn't be right. What …? And then he understood what Scar Face had planned next. The thought was almost enough to make him spill out everything he knew, but he had to be strong. It had to be convincing, he told himself. He could do this. He _had_ to do this! "N-no" was his short, whispered reply.

There was some kind of emotion on Scar Face's cruel features that hadn't been there before. Respect? "Then I am sorry" his adversary said, sounding honestly apologetical, and approached him with his newest addition of torturing instruments. Arthur tried to evade the man's grip, which meant that his back touched the wall once again and made him cry out. Scar Face grabbed his left hand and placed the pliers on his thumbnail. The gesture was clear and for just one second, Arthur's decision faltered. But then he remembered his father, his friends and Camelot and he somehow found the strength to say "I won't tell you" one last time. Only seconds later he felt the pliers closing in on his nail, and the pain that followed was more excruciating than anything he had been through his entire life.

XXXXX

Pain. That was all he felt. An immense pain in his left thumb. Merlin cried out and clutched his right hand around his aching finger, toppling over in anguish. Images flickered through his mind – Arthur in chains, blood, tears streaming down his face, untold terror filling his blue eyes.

"Merlin!" he heard Gwaine's voice call in the darkness surrounding them, his tone a mixture of surprise and shock. "Merlin, are you alright?"

Merlin was far from alright. The pain only receded slowly, as did the images, leaving him with nausea and confusion. What had happened? Some kind of weird nightmare? But it had been so realistic, so horrible… Had he actually seen and felt what was happening to Arthur, or had his overactive mind played tricks on him?

"Merlin!" Gwaine asked again, still waiting for an answer. He could feel his friend's hand on his shoulder, supporting him. "Buddy?"

Merlin managed to pull himself enough together to nod and to reply in a hoarse voice: "Yeah… yeah, I'm alright. Just a headache, is all." Even without the candles on, he could tell that Gwaine didn't believe him, but in this case he had no choice but to lie. He couldn't share his secret with anyone, not even one of his best friends.

"Uh… hu…" Gwaine commented, but he seemed to respect Merlin's choice and let go off the young man's shoulder. Merlin lay back on his bed, where he had been sleeping when the … dream … vision … whatever it was had assaulted him. He lifted up his hand and tried to make out the outline of his thumb, the memory of what he had seen still lingering on. Had that really been a glimpse of Arthur? If it had, then time was a much more pressing matter than Merlin first had feared.

He probably wouldn't get any more sleep tonight.

XXXXX

As he came to, Scar Face stood hunched over him. "Thank you for your … cooperation", the man said with a malicious grin. Arthur could only vaguely remember the last few minutes. He had told the man what he had wanted to hear, and he had actually managed to stay true to his idea about lying, though how he had been able to construct lie after lie through a mist of pain and terror was beyond him. Scar Face seemed quite content, which bought Arthur some time without torture and punishment – or so he hoped. Why keep him alive, now that he had fulfilled his purpose? He hadn't thought that far ahead before, only thinking about what the man would be able to do with the right kind of information.

Arthur hadn't the strength to give Scar Face a snappy reply – he hadn't even the strength to look up. His thumb was throbbing, his back and the knife wounds were burning and he was barely able to keep himself conscious. Blackening out again would have been a blessing right now, but he didn't want to risk not seeing his end coming. If he were to die now, he would die as the noble man, no, as the _knight_ he was.

"Shall we proceed with the plan, Sire?" Rogar wanted to know after one minute or so where Scar Face had stared blankly at Arthur. He could see how his adversary nodded and pulled out a small pendant from his vest pocket, which he opened to reveal a tiny crystal. As Arthur looked at it, the pieces of Scar Face's plan finally came together, confirming his suspicions. He managed not to cry out as his captor pressed the crystal against one of his larger wounds, twisting and turning it viciously until it was covered in Arthur's blood. Then Scar Face slipped it over his head and muttered a few words in a strange language. Only seconds later, loud screams echoed through the cell once more.


	8. Chapter 8

„Merlin, stop pacing!" Gwaine sighed. "You're making _me_ nervous!"

Merlin looked up, distress flickering clearly in his eyes. "A _day_, Gwaine! It has been a whole day and we haven't heard or found out anything!" He turned around to face his friend, who was sitting on his makeshift bed beside Merlin's sleeping place. The cloak that had disguised him yesterday when he had brought Merlin home to Gaius was hanging on a chair next to him. Of course Merlin had been grateful for everything Gwaine had done for him, but he had been afraid that someone might recognize his friend and tell the King about this unwanted visitor. Luckily, no one had taken notice of him, apart from Gwen, who had stood at the well when they had entered the market place. She, however, had been much more concerned with Merlin's and Arthur's well-being than "Daisy Boy", as she called him.

They had left the horses with the dead bodies outside in order to avoid attracting too much attention until Merlin had had a chance to regain just some of his strength and had faced Uther. Gaius had then asked two guards to fetch them after their audience with the King. Now Gwaine was hiding in Merlin's chamber, waiting for some sign from Arthur or the kidnappers. Merlin still didn't understand why his friend seemed to be ready to sacrifice his freedom, maybe even his life to save one of the nobles he despised so much, but he guessed that it wasn't Arthur he was helping. It was him. His thoughts drifted to a night long ago, a camp fire where he and Gwaine had sat side by side, talking about quite a similar situation. "I'm not doing this for him" Gwaine had said then, sending a warm feeling of gratitude down Merlin's spine then as well as now.

"I know, I know" Gwaine lifted his hands and made a soothing motion. "And believe me, I hate sitting here, useless, as much as you do. But there may pass days before we hear anything, so _sit down_ and tend your wound!"

At that, Merlin almost smiled. Gwaine couldn't know that his "wound" was already fully healed, though he still kept his arm in a sling to keep up appearances. Everything else would just have been too dangerous. So he took his friend's order to heart and let himself fall heavily on his bed. His fingers still kept tapping restlessly on the blanket – he knew Gwaine was right, but still a full day had went by without any sign of life from Arthur. Sir Leon had returned empty handed, saying the foot and hoof prints had ended at Tiorga Road, the main connection between Camelot and Mercia. So many horses and wagons passed here every day that it had been completely impossible to follow the thugs' trail. The three dead bandits weren't of much help either, as nobody seemed to know who they were or where they had come from. After receiving these worthless pieces of information, Merlin had spent most of the next day with Gaius, Gwen and Gwaine, staring at maps and considering possible enemies who might be behind this. No one came to mind – but that didn't mean anything, as he knew both Arthur and Uther had lots of adversaries that he didn't even know about. Even the tiny hint Gwaine had provided them with – the silver eagle – didn't lead anywhere. Gwaine had tried to recount his meeting with the dying man as detailed as possible, but neither of them had the faintest idea, what the man meant when he spoke about the animal. Merlin had even tried to use magic to locate the prince, but either the spell wasn't strong enough or Arthur was being shielded by magic. All in all it seemed hopeless. And of course there was the matter of his nightmare. He had told Gaius about it the next morning once they had had a minute alone, but the old man was just as surprised and concerned as Merlin and their conversation led nowhere. Gwaine hadn't commented on his friend's nightly racket, but his worried look had spoken volumes. Merlin had acknowledged Gwaine's consideration with a cheery smile, though his own agitation as well as the pain he still felt in his thumb belied this gesture.

Gwen had finally gone to attend to her duties with Lady Morgana, while Gaius decided to take a look at the three dead bandits and to bring word about the "silver eagle" to the King in hope that maybe Uther could make sense of this phrase – which left him and Gwaine sitting alone in Merlin's chamber. Was there nothing he could do? Merlin sighed and took his head in his hands. Gwaine placed a hand on his back and padded him encouragingly, not needing words to comfort his friend. Merlin couldn't recall how long he had sat there, when his gloomy thoughts were disturbed by a soft knock on the door. He exchanged looks with Gwaine, somewhere between hope- and fearful, and hurried towards the main door, signaling Gwaine to close the chamber door and hide. The knock was repeated, more insisting this time. Merlin opened the door with a far too violent motion and stared at a young face. It took him a few seconds to recognize the boy in front of him: Karim, the stable boy. He didn't really know him, but the few times they had met in the stables they had gotten along well, and Karim always met them with a smile and a cheerful comment when they fetched their horses. Now, however, the boy looked very pale and seemed to be far away from any smile. He looked a lot more like he was prone to run at any second…

"Karim?" Merlin asked, surprised. „What's wrong?"

The boy looked up at him and bit his lip. „I…" he began, but stopped and started over differently: „Can I come in?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but nodded and accompanied his movement with a warm smile: "Of course."

The stable boy entered the chambers and subjugated the room a scrutinizing gaze, like he was looking for someone. "Are you… alone?" he wanted to know.

Again Merlin nodded while closing the door behind him. "Is everything alright?" he then asked, motioning the boy to sit down and placing a cup of hot tea in front of him. Karim took the cup gratefully in two hands and smiled slightly.

"Thank you" he said. „And yes, I am alright. Sort of." Merlin sat down opposite him and decided to just wait for the boy to continue. After taking a careful sip and looking around once more, Karim nodded as if to ensure himself that he was doing the right thing. "I think I know where prince Arthur is."

He might as well have dropped a bomb. Merlin stared at him in disbelief, not yet ready to give in to the sudden rush of joy he longed to feel. "But… but how… could you…" he stammered. "And why haven't you told the King?"

"It's … complicated" Karim whispered. "When I saw the dead men outside, I knew."

Merlin waited impatiently for him to continue, but was careful not to press matters. This was his best chance yet, and he didn't want to lose it by scaring the boy.

"One of them… the one with the stomach wound …" He could see the boy swallow hard at the thought. "I have seen him before."

Merlin looked at him in surprise. „Where?" he asked, trying to control his excitement.

„He… he is… _was_ an old friend of my uncle, God rest his soul."

Now Merlin was really zealous – hopefully that meant that Karim knew where these thugs used to dwell! "Do you… do you know where …" he began, but stopped as Karim nodded.

"I have an idea, yes." Then his eyes widened in terror and he hissed: "But you cannot tell the King about this! If he were to find out about my … family relations, he… he would…"

Merlin had a pretty good idea about _what_ Uther would do if he found a new scapegoat with connections (as far stretched they might be) to those responsible for his son's abduction. "I won't tell a soul" Merlin promised.

Karim didn't seem convinced, but Merlin could see how his righteousness won over his fear. "It's … not that far from here" Karim began, still hesitating, but his voice growing firmer with every word. "Actually, it's in the woods of Marbor. There's a cave in the rocky area around Springwater Falls, just one of many. They have lived there for many years, as far as I know."

Merlin had a hard time believing that it should be so easy to find his friend, but on the other hand – why should Karim lie to him? And maybe the boy was wrong. Maybe the thugs had long since left the cave, or maybe they had just chosen a more secure hideout for their important prisoner. Maybe Karim had confused the dead man with someone else. Anything that helped him not to get his hopes up too much.

"Merlin?" Karim asked as he didn't answer the boy.

„I was just thinking … about … what to do" Merlin replied more or less truthfully. "But don't worry!" he added as he saw the fear flicker up in Karim's eyes once more. "Your secret is safe with me. I just need a plan."

The stable boy sighed in relief and nodded. „I wish I could help you" he said quietly. „But I don't know how to fight. I …"

„You have done more than enough already, Karim." Merlin smiled at him. "Thank you for your honesty."

At that the boy gave Merlin a beaming simper. He put down the tea cup and whispered: "Then I better go. Good luck, Merlin. I hope you find Arthur."

If there was one thing in his life Merlin hoped for, then it was the exact same thing, but he didn't linger on this thought. Finally there was something he could do, and he wouldn't waste another second! As soon as Karim had left Gaius' room, Merlin hurried back to his chamber and was met by a questioning look.

"Who was that?" Gwaine asked and stared intently at the door where Karim had stood just seconds before.

Merlin followed his gaze and answered readily: "That's the stable boy. Karim."

"That's strange" Gwaine replied, and for a second Merlin thought he could see worry in his friend's eyes. "I could have sworn I've met him before. But I don't really see where or when that could have happened." Before Merlin could say something, Gwaine's lips curled into a brilliant smile and he said: "Well, let's not dwell on it. We better get a move on!"

Merlin couldn't agree more.


	9. Chapter 9

They had been on their way to the Springwater Caves for several hours now and Merlin's heartbeat seemed to accelerate with every mile they drew nearer. Merlin had heard stories about the area around the massive waterfall that made its way down into a large crevice; mostly it had been commoners mumbling about ghosts and magical creatures that according to myth would make this an unsafe part of the forest. Merlin had only smiled at these stories as they paled in comparison to everything he had seen since he had first made his way to Camelot. Twenty years ago, Uther had sent his knights to the caves to slay anything magical, but they had returned empty-handed and quite amused by the people's superstition. The stories hadn't died, but Uther's attention to this remote area had, which made it the perfect hiding place for those who worked outside the law.

Now they were only a few miles away from the caves, and once more Merlin wondered how wise his decision to find Arthur by himself (well, almost) had been. He knew that Gwaine was an excellent fighter and he could probably use his magic without revealing his true identity in the heat of an ensuing battle, but still there were only two of them and an unknown number of enemies. If they were lucky it would only be the five remaining kidnappers, but honestly – when had they last been that lucky? But he had given Karim his word, and if there were too many adversaries for him and Gwaine to handle, they could still turn back and bring more men. Right now they were on a mere recon mission in order to determine whether Arthur was actually being held at this location.

They rode on in silence, though Merlin did notice the quizzical looks that Gwaine gave him now and then. He had asked about the episode last night once, shortly after they had left Camelot, but Merlin had simply told him that he had been suffering from a violent nightmare. Gwaine didn't seem convinced, but he hadn't brought the subject up again. By now all that remained of his vision was a pounding in his thumb while all of the images seemed more like distant shadows.

After continuing for an hour or so, they finally reached the rocky area of Springwater. In the distance they could hear the growling thunder of water falling, growing louder with each heartbeat. There was only one path down into the crevice, at which bottom most of the minor and larger caves were situated. They would have to leave the horses behind and decided to do so a good stretch away from the steep path as not to alarm the thugs. Merlin took off his bandage, which would have disturbed his balance, and explained with a smile: "Gaius' potions really do work miracles." Then they made their way to the decline, treading carefully and keeping a wary eye out for their enemies. The noise of the waterfall was drowning out the sound of their steps on the stony ground, but unfortunately they would cover the sound of approaching opponents as well. Merlin tried not to focus too much on his two left feed and couldn't help but admire the swift, yet soft movement of his friend, who climbed down the path with the dangerous elegance of a feline predator. How he could do so while wearing his quite heavy leather armor was beyond Merlin. He just followed Gwaine slowly, watching his step. As far as he could see, the area was deserted and had been so for a rather long time, but maybe the bandits were just really good at covering their tracks…

Suddenly he could see Gwaine jerk back, reaching out for him quickly and pulling them both behind a large boulder to their right. He pointed at his eyes, then at something further down and Merlin assumed that he must have seen something. Or some_one_. He was about to whisper a question, but Gwaine laid his finger on his lips and shook his head. He repeated his first gesture and Merlin followed his gaze with his eyes. At the bottom of the crevice, he could see movement, just a black shadow in the distance, emerging from a small, dark cave entrance. A very tall man, Merlin recognized. This was almost too easy, he thought. Or maybe their luck had finally turned.

"We wait, see how many there are, couple of hours" Gwaine said so quietly that Merlin almost didn't hear him. He simply nodded – that was probably the best idea right now, though every fiber of his body screamed for him to just run down there, cast magic in every direction and save Arthur. Maybe it had just been a figment of his mind, but somehow he couldn't wipe away the memory of what he had seen and felt. Somehow he just _knew_ that Arthur was in pain.

The hours passed by far too slowly. His back started aching from the unnatural, crouched position, but he dared not to move too much around. The man down there had been walking around for a while before going back into the cave and being replaced by another one. Only a moment later another man had come out and placed himself behind a rock a bit further away from the entrance to relieve himself. So there were at least three, Merlin thought. Unfortunately he didn't remember any of the faces from the ambush, but their height and cupboard-like stature were dead giveaways. It just had to be their assailants! Karim had been right!

Another hour went by and with it another change of lookout, which made four. Merlin's impatience grew, but they had to wait another two hours to make sure there weren't any more. There had been five different villains outside, but of course that didn't mean anything – others could simply not have left the cave, or more could dwell in another hideout close by. But it was good enough for Merlin and Gwaine.

"We have to take out the lookout first, silently" Gwaine began formulating a plan. "I wish I had brought a crossbow."

Merlin wished he could just tell Gwaine about his powers – with them it wouldn't have been that much of a problem to bring the guard down inconspicuously. But like this he would just have to trust his friend and provide him with backup if necessary.

"If we could get him away from the cave…" Gwaine continued, obviously speaking to himself instead of Merlin, but the young mage listened closely to every word his friend said. He wasn't a strategist or a fighter, but he knew what was in his power to do – and what wasn't. Maybe if he found some point in Gwaine's plan that would make it possible for him to interfere with magic…? Or maybe, he thought with a silent sigh, he just would have to rely on his plain appearance…

"I think I have an idea…" he muttered and explained his plan.

Gwaine stared at him in disbelief.

XXXXX

So far, his day had been more than boring. Well, he mused, after the big fight yesterday with the prospect of untold riches, there would have to happen a whole lot of things to make his day more interesting. Though he wasn't all too pleased with the three men that had been lost. They had been his friends, after all. Pretty good fighters, too. He was still surprised at how quickly that prince boy had brought them down, especially when he had stabbed his sword right through Arland's stomach… Almost looked like Arland had been unable to move just seconds before it happened. Really strange. But then again – three less with whom he'd had to share his loot.

Deverell stretched himself and took another look around the area in front of the cave and up the path that led down into the crevice. Nothing. Not much of a surprise – no one knew that he and his … colleagues … were living here, and no one ever came here, except for the occasional stray wanderer who had lost his way and (at this Deverell snickered) would never find it again after meeting him and the others. It was the perfect hideout. Still, he would leave this place as soon as they got paid for their work. Abducting the heir to the throne of Camelot had sounded like a daring plan at first, but after their new master had explained to them about the traitor inside the castle walls, it had suddenly seemed a lot more doable. He had never met the man in person before yesterday – all conversation had taken place with his servant Rogar, a man much of Deverell's liking. Even now he didn't know the old guy's name and he hadn't recognized the crest with the eagle, but as long as he got paid (and he intended to!) that wasn't important. They had taken the prince somewhere else, but very early this morning Rogar had returned to the caves, leaving the hostage in their … ahem … _care_. Change of plans, nothing to worry about. They had even gotten paid upfront for this unexpected work. For a while Deverell had actually pondered about the possibility of kidnapping the prince from his captor and raking in all the ransom money himself, but that meant a lot of unwanted planning and attention, which wasn't a good thing. He liked to keep it simple.

Looking up at the sun, Deverell decided that it was almost time for him to return into the comfortable coolness of the cave, when something caught his eye. Up there, on the path, he could see someone, a young man if he wasn't mistaken, who clumsily made his way down into the crevice. As far as Deverell could see, he was carrying a small sword at his side, but seemed otherwise unarmed. He was clad in a shabby, brown jacket, a red tunic and brown leather pants, and around his neck he had tied a dark red neckerchief. Somehow, he seemed familiar… Something about the clothing, but… No. Deverell shook his head imperceptibly. Now that he could make out the face he knew that he hadn't seen this one before. It was probably just the swaying gait and the distinct exhaustion on the man's face that he recognized, as it was the same everytime. This was his lucky day! The last time they had been _visited_ by a lost wayfarer had been in the spring! He contemplated briefly to call for the others, but decided against it. This was one man – a boy even – nothing he couldn't handle. But just to make sure, he took another suspicious look around, dwelling a few seconds longer on the path behind the wanderer. Nothing.

The boy came closer. He had an ugly face, with a long, crooked nose that must have been broken a few times and small, pig-eyed eyes. His lip was swollen as if he had taken a beating, and his teeth were yellow and brown. Maybe Deverell wasn't as lucky after all. This boy looked a lot like an outlaw himself, probably without any possessions. But it couldn't hurt to make sure. He left his post and drew closer to the wanderer, his hand on his sword – just in case. As the boy noticed him, he nodded as if in recognition. It was weird… for just one second, Deverell could have sworn that his face had … well, _changed_… into something a lot more pleasant, but it must have been his eyes playing tricks on him. Then the boy had almost reached him and whispered in a raspy voice: "Something to eat, friend?"

He had been right, Deverell thought with a disappointed sigh. There was nothing to come after here. But the boy had now found their hideout, which meant he would have to die anyways. "I am not your friend" Deverell answered in a cold tone of voice and lifted his sword. The boy's eyes widened in fear and once again Deverell thought that he had seen that face before, but suddenly he was too busy chasing his adversary through the crevice to think more about it. The boy seemed to have read his mind and turned around much more quickly than his worn stature had hinted. As he started sprinting away from the cave, Deverell set into pursuit, following him up the path as fast as his legs would carry him. Dammit, he knew he should have alerted the others! But by now his failure was too embarrassing to admit. He would have to catch this son of a bitch alone. "Stop!" he hissed as they had made their way halfway up the steep slope. The boy, of course, didn't hesitate one second, so Deverell found himself forced to put every grain of strength in his body into this chase. He was still exhausted from yesterday and his leg hurt where the prince had wounded him perfunctorily. "You stupid boy!" he rasped and tried to reach out for his prey, but the boy managed to jump out of his way and … Deverell couldn't believe his luck! … fell right onto his knees, as his left foot connected with a loose piece of rock. With a triumphant howl, he threw himself at the boy, trying to stab him in the chest.

That was when he recognized him. "You…?" he managed to say, before something large and fairly quick attacked him from behind. The last thing he saw in his life was the blood-covered blade of a sword penetrating his breast and his leather armor.

XXXXX

"Alright, alright" Gwaine admitted. "That was a rather good plan."

Merlin smiled and scrambled to his feet, his gaze fixed upon the dead thug in front of him. He helped his friend hiding the body behind the large boulder, then they both knelt down beside it to avoid being seen by suspicious looks. It wouldn't be too long before the other bandits discovered that something was wrong.

"Though I still don't understand why he didn't recognize you before now…" Gwaine muttered, his face reflecting confusion as well as a tiny hint of … suspicion?

Merlin gulped imperceptibly and tried to think of a good answer that wasn't the truth ("How could he? I used magic to hide my true face…"), when he was saved by the bell. Or rather a loud shout coming from the entrance of the cave:

"Deverell! Oy, you lazy bastard, no time for a nap!"

Deverell, he supposed, was the dead guy. And they had apparently been lucky to get a hold of the groups' bad seed, who was known for leaving his post. Perfect! A look at Gwaine, only barely able to suppress a laugh, told him that his friend held the same thought in mind.

"Now what?" Merlin whispered.

"Now we wait" came the dreaded answer. Their last wait had been far too long for Merlin's taste, but this time it only took ten minutes before three of the thugs left the cave to swarm out and search the area. They all had their weapons drawn; two spikey clubs and one jagged shortsword. Merlin had hoped for them to search alone, but unfortunately they seemed to be a lot smarter than poor Deverell, moving around together and obviously trudging round all the places their dead comrade liked to use for his "nap". As none of them proved to be of worth, they hesitatingly raised their heads and stared at the path. One of them gave another shout: "Oy, you sloth! Get your ass down here at once!" When Deverell gave no answer, the man shrugged and seemed to wait for orders from the other two. They looked a bit lost too, but at last the one with the sword made his decision and started moving up the slope. Merlin lifted three fingers and sent Gwaine an unsure gaze: Could they really take three bear-like men? Gwaine's crooked smile didn't comfort him, but it wasn't like they had a choice anymore. His heart beating heavily against his chest, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, Merlin waited. The three men came closer, just staring blindly at the top of the crevice and slowly passing by his and Gwaine's hiding place. This was almost too easy…

The thought had only just escaped Merlin's mind, when one of them suddenly stopped with a jolt. "Did you hear that?" he asked and looked back at the cave with alarm in his eyes. Merlin was about to check with Gwaine whether now was the right time to attack, when his friend gave a furious roar and jumped up from his crouching position, his sword cutting the first thug's throat in one swift motion. Before the other two could react, he charged and managed to get a superficial hit in before being forced to parry two club hits at the same time. Merlin let out a frightened gasp as Gwaine was struck on his shoulder by one of the clubs and stumbled three steps back. The man must've hit as hard as a battering ram! The two men pursued him at once, but this time he managed to escape both of their attacks by blocking the first and evading the next one. Apparently their adversaries were using the same strategy as before, which had made it easy for Gwaine to guess which direction was safe. But would he be as lucky next time? Merlin took a closer look at the ground underneath the three men's feet, trying to find anything that could even the odds with a little magical help… A small rock lying in front of one of the bandits seemed to be the perfect opportunity. Merlin made sure that Gwaine had turned his back towards him (golden eyes would be _so_ hard to explain afterwards!) before conjuring his inner magic and releasing it by whispering three words in the language of old. The rock did as it was ordered to and shifted position, now lying exactly under the attacker's lifted foot. When their adversary tried to make his next step towards Merlin's friend, he lost his balance, giving Gwaine the chance to strike him directly in the chest. With a gurgling sound, the man stumbled backwards and hit his head on the way down. Merlin had hoped that the last opponent would give up at the sight of his three defeated friends, but he attacked Gwaine even more fiercely than before, letting out a shout of rage while swaying his club quickly from side to side. Gwaine moved backwards and seemed to be looking for some gap in his adversary's cover, but this one seemed to be a lot better at fighting than his fallen brethren. Or maybe he had just been lucky. Again he tried to interfere for Gwaine's benefit, putting a small boulder between the two combatants that almost made the attacker trip. Almost. But at least the short reprieve gave Gwaine the chance to break through the bandit's defense, cutting the skin on his cheek, but not causing any serious damage.

Merlin was far too preoccupied with the ongoing battle to notice the last thug who had made his way up to their hiding place unseen. Gwaine noticed him just a second before he would have chopped his head off and managed to duck just in time. Unfortunately, the abrupt movement made him lose his balance, which gave the one with the club an unfair advantage. His weapon came crashing down on Gwaine's head, but Merlin succeeded in casting an invisible shield around his friend in the nick of time, causing the club to bounce back and taking the giant holding it with it. Not the subtle way to use magic, but he really hadn't had any choice. The last man had just been in the process of attacking Gwaine from the other side, as his attention shifted towards Merlin.

"You! What..?" he whispered and charged without wasting another thought on the warrior. Merlin tried to swerve to the right and somehow managed to raise his sword enough to parry the first blow, but it was hard enough to bash his weapon right out of his hand. Luckily, this episode had given Gwaine the time to get back on his feet and he hurried to step in between Merlin and his adversary, absorbing the next hit with his sword. The fight was short and uneven: Another loose rock under their opponent's foot, another strike, another dead thug. Merlin just hoped that Gwaine didn't become too suspicious at this stroke of luck that seemed to follow him around today… The last giant had finally gotten hold of his club again and was charging them once more, but this time his movements were much rougher, somehow more uncontrolled; probably due to the fact that he had just lost his entire band of brigands.

"I'll handle this, Merlin" Gwaine said with a smirk. "Go find your prince."

Merlin didn't really want to abandon Gwaine in the heat of the battle, but on the other hand… He knew that Gwaine wouldn't have that much of a problem in defeating this adversary, and if his visions were true, Arthur really needed his help… So he just nodded and made his way back to the cave, hoping that the five bandits had been alone.


	10. Chapter 10

The sunlight that lit the entrance of the cave didn't reach very far, but in the farther end of the cavity he could make out a single torch, lighting up a few crates and barrels. The stench inside was almost unbearable, reeking of rotten food and urine. Apparently not all of these thugs had a distinctively hygienic sense… The floor was filled with old, ragged clothes and hides that seemed to constitute some kind of makeshift beds. Near the entrance was a small fireplace that had been extinguished for quite a while – no surprise with the warm summer air outside. Behind it, Merlin saw eight tree stumps that seemed to serve as chairs. He passed everything by, keeping a wary eye out for any more enemies, but the cave was silent and, apart from the bandits' possessions, empty. No, no, that couldn't be! Arthur had to be here somewhere! He made his way over to the crates and barrels that were filled with various junk, old weapons and wine or Ale, on the sweet stench of it. But still no Arthur. Merlin shuddered at the thought that they might have been looking in the wrong place, but then, finally, at the far end of the hideout and hidden in the shadows he discovered a huddled figure. Merlin quickened his pace, almost tripping over his own feet. His heart made a jump for joy when he recognized _who_ was lying there in the shadows and he sent a silent prayer of thanks to the stable boy. Arthur. Alive and … well, not _well_, but alive would just have to do for now. He seemed to be unconscious, judging from his lack of response to the sounds of his approaching footsteps, but after everything he had been through that wasn't that much of a surprise. His hands were tied behind his back and connected by a thick rope with bonds around his ankles, making his position as uncomfortable as possible. He had been gagged and blindfolded as well, not that either made any sense in this remote cave. His clothes were ragged and bloody, and dried blood had also colored his blonde hair dark red. In other words, Merlin thought with a lump in his throat, he looked terrible.

Within a second Merlin was at his friend's side, planning on using his dagger to cut the ropes that held Arthur. But when he turned him around softly, he was forced to stop his actions by the pure shock that befell him at the sight of the prince's back. What he could make out from under the torn shirt was nothing more than one large crater of caked blood. Having a gloomy premonition, Merlin looked down at his friend's left hand and inhaled sharply at the sight of the maltreated thumb. As he had feared, the nail was missing, exposing the bare flesh underneath. His vision had come true – Arthur had had to suffer through all the pain he had felt. The thought, together with the horrible sight, was too much for Merlin to bear and he hurriedly turned away from Arthur to empty his stomach.

"You alright there?" he heard Gwaine say in a worried tone of voice. His friend had finally made his way down to the cave and was now kneeling at Arthur's side, obviously not as squeamish about the prince's wounds.

"Y-yes…" Still feeling quite shaky, Merlin sat up and looked at Gwaine, who cut the ties with his own dagger, then removed the gag and finally the blindfold, careful not to touch any of the wounded spots.

"Not too gentle" Gwaine commented as he threw away the piece of cloth and found a small water flask that he pressed against Arthur's chapped lips. The prince moaned softly at the touch and swallowed instinctively as the cold liquid entered his mouth.

"Will he… will he be alright?" Merlin wanted to know, sitting down next to his two friends and staring at them with concern. He still had a hard time believing that anyone could do such horrible things to a person, but after everything he had seen in the last three years it didn't surprise him anymore. Though Camelot was a quite peaceful realm, pain and suffering found their way into the midst of its citizens in regular intervals, making this situation nothing more than another dreadful incident. With the small exception that it was one of his friends who was suffering. Merlin's hands clenched into fists of rage at the mere thought of what Arthur had been through. For a second he could feel how his magic welled up inside of him, turning his eyes a mystical golden color, but he managed to fight it back down within a heartbeat without Gwaine noticing.

"He will live" Gwaine replied, which wasn't the answer Merlin had hoped for, but it would have to do for now. As if on cue, Arthur's eyelids fluttered and he gazed upon his two rescuers through a haze of pain and confusion.

"W-what…" he began and tried to sit up, but Gwaine pushed him gently down again, flinching as he accidentally touched a red streak on the prince's shoulder that made him gasp.

"S-sorry" Gwaine muttered, obviously feeling helpless at the look of utter fear in Arthur's eyes.

Merlin made a soothing sound and forced himself to smile, but he could feel how miserably he failed. More than anything, he wanted to just use his magic to heal Arthur's maltreated body, but he knew that he couldn't risk discovery as long as the wounds weren't life-threatening. "It will be alright."

Arthur didn't really look like he agreed, but he nodded anyways and whispered a single question, that made Gwaine raise an eyebrow in bemusement and made Merlin's heart skip a beat. "Who… who are you?" His questioning look at Merlin's friend left no doubt that it was Gwaine he didn't recognize, which, after everything they had been through together, was more than weird.

"Oh, that's just so typical!" Gwaine replied, apparently quite indignant at this strange query, but still with a sly grin on his lips. "Here I go saving your life – _again_, I might add! – and you just _happen_ to forget me!"

For a fraction of a second, Merlin thought he could see more than mere confusion in Arthur's look at these words. Something like … _anger_? _Annoyance_? More likely it was a glance filled with pain, because only a heartbeat later, the prince passed out.

XXXXX

They tried to make their way back to Camelot as fast as possible in order to not prolong Arthur's pain unnecessarily. Gwaine had done for the prince what he could in the cave, but the rest was up to Gaius and his potions. Placing Arthur carefully in front of him, Gwaine mounted the horse and waited for Merlin to do the same. His thoughts went back to the moment Arthur had woken up and he couldn't help but recall the look of complete confusion that had been visible in his eyes at seeing Gwaine by his side. Yes, he had felt that it was necessary to lighten up the mood with one of his comments about nobles, but that didn't mean that he wasn't worried. Arthur had proven to him on many occasions that he was a man to be trusted and it didn't make any sense that he would choose not to remember him. On the other hand: It didn't make any sense that he actually _would_ have forgotten him after everything they had been through. They had stood together in various fights and battled against unholy creatures on Arthur's quest, so unless something was really, really wrong he should have recalled his name. And what had that other look been about, the one that followed just before he lost consciousness? He wasn't at all sure what to read into it, and that was strange. Though it probably didn't seem like it for others, Gwaine was actually quite skilled in reading people, but right back there and then his skills seemed to fail him.

It was probably nothing. But he decided that it wasn't his time to leave Camelot as fast as he had hoped after all.

XXXXX

While they were riding back to Camelot, Merlin couldn't shake off that unnerving feeling that something was wrong. They had saved Arthur and made sure that the bandits in question would never harm anyone ever again, and yet … He couldn't exactly say where these feelings came from. It felt as if… as if he had left an important part behind on this venture. As if… No, it didn't make any sense. The only thing that counted now was to get Arthur safely back to Camelot and get his wounds treated.

"Quite a few days, eh, Merlin?" Gwaine said in a cheerful tone of voice. Arthur was still unconscious in front of him and he had placed one arm around the prince's waist to prevent him from falling off. If it hadn't been for the frighteningly large number of bandages covering almost every inch of Arthur's body, it would have been quite a cute picture, actually.

"Yeah" he answered with some delay and forced himself to smile. They had saved the day, after all. Everything would be fine.


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin didn't leave Arthur's side all day and the following night. They had reached the castle sometime after midday, but before entering the city they had split up, with Merlin taking Gwaine's place behind the prince who had slept through their entire journey. With Gwen's help, they smuggled Gwaine into Camelot later, while Merlin and Gaius tended to the prince's wounds. Uther had been worried sick and had refused to leave his son until Gaius had used his authority as court physician to command the King to leave.

"Whoever has done this will pay with their lives!" Uther thundered while he was being ushered out of Arthur's chambers.

"They already have" Merlin explained and took a step away from the King when he suddenly felt Uther's furious glance on himself. "We… we… I mean…" he stammered and suddenly blurted out: "The bandits were all killed when we saved Arthur." As soon as the words had left his mouth, he knew they had been a mistake. Until now, no one had explained to Uther what had happened – he had first heard of their rescue mission in the instant Merlin had entered the court yard with Arthur, and he hadn't asked any questions due to his concern for his son's life. Until now. The word "we" certainly didn't help.

"We?" Uther asked suspiciously calm. "And would you care to explain to me, who 'we' is, servant?"

Merlin could almost feel Gaius' worried stare on his back and he gulped nervously. He knew how the King felt about his best friend, but then again – why would he persecute someone who had just saved Arthur's life once more? So he decided to tell the truth and began with a sigh: "Gwaine and I."

As Uther's eyes widened and one of the protruding veins on the King's forehead began to throb treacherously, he hurriedly recounted what had happened since he had found out about the abductor's hiding place and just hoped and prayed that the King's joy about having his son back would appease him. He kept his promise and managed to make up a quite believable lie about who had shared information about the Springwater Caves ("Some peasant, didn't tell me his name"). When he had finished, he held his breath in anticipation, half expecting the King to order him being thrown into the dungeon, half expecting him to hug him in relief, but neither happened. Uther just stared him down a couple of seconds longer, then nodded and turned his back on him with a vague "Very well", leaving Merlin alone with his thoughts.

"At least he didn't put you in the stocks" he heard Gaius' voice after a few minutes which Merlin had spent staring after Uther. He turned around slowly and nodded, then entered Arthur's chambers once again and sat down on the soft mattress beside the prince.

"I just hope he isn't sending the guards out to search for Gwaine" he muttered and looked down on Arthur's pale, exhausted face in worry. What had his friend been through in the last few days? Why had it been necessary to torture him like this if the only thing they had wanted was to collect an impressive sum of money? Just for the fun of it? Or had they hoped to gather information on Camelot's defenses that could be sold to the highest bidder? Maybe one of the rival kings had been behind the abduction?

Finally, Merlin hadn't any strength left to worry and fell asleep at his friend's side with his head lying on the pillow next to Arthur.

He couldn't have slept for long when a soft moan awakened him. It had been a restless sleep, filled with strange images of dark and cold places, of fear and despair, pain and misery, and he awoke with a feeling of having forgotten something. But before he had the time to think more about the meaning of his dream, Arthur moaned once more. His eyeballs were moving erratically underneath his closed eyelids, like he was having a nightmare, and sweat was glistening upon his forehead. Still, he looked a lot better than yesterday. Merlin considered briefly to get something to drink for the prince, when Arthur's hand suddenly reached out for him. His fingers closed around Merlin's wrist and pulled him back.

"D-don't go" he stammered, his voice raspy. "I…" His voice trailed off and turned into a painful cough.

"I will get you something to drink" Merlin said and tried to free himself, but Arthur shook his head and made a weak attempt to get up.

"I… I wanted to thank you. Both of you." And then he did something that made Merlin think that his friend must have lost his mind somewhere between being abducted in the woods and being rescued in the cave: He pulled Merlin further down and gave him a long, intense hug. At first, Merlin wasn't quite sure how to react. Arthur had never, _never_ hugged him, not when he had saved his life, nor when he had been clearly relieved or glad to see Merlin. This just wasn't… natural.

"Those fiends hit you really hard, didn't they?" Merlin tried to joke while at the same time getting the feeling of being choked by Arthur's strength. "And… you're stronger than you look" he panted.

At that Arthur laughed heartily and let go off him. "That water sounds really good right now", he said. Merlin reacted within a fraction of a second, still baffled by what had just happened and more than happy to get some distance between him and his friend. While he went over to a small table where a water jug and a mug had been placed, he heard Arthur ask: "What about …" He stopped and seemed honestly confused. "The… other one who was with you?"

Merlin's eyes widened and he was glad that he had his back turned towards Arthur. He really didn't remember Gwaine? He had heard of those who had lost memories after hitting their head too hard, but he had remembered Merlin, Gaius and his father, so why not a man who had saved his life? "Gwaine?" he said and walked back to Arthur with a filled mug.

"Yeah, of course" Arthur muttered and quenched his thirst before continuing: "Where is he?"

Merlin pondered for a second whether he should answer truthfully; after all Gwaine had been banished from Camelot. But Arthur was Gwaine's friend, so he finally replied: "He's hiding in the lower town." He had hoped that the word "hiding" would trigger something in the prince's memory, but all he saw was confusion. He really had forgotten all about his friend. "Because of his banishment" he offered an explanation.

"Right, of course" Arthur whispered and sank back into the soft pillows, clearly having strained himself too much. "I will have to thank him once I get back on my feet." At that he closed his eyes once again and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Merlin was about to turn away and talk to Gaius about Arthur's strange behavior, when something caught his eye. It was a small necklace around Arthur's neck that he hadn't noticed before, some kind of medallion in a shaggy bronze color. How come he had never seen it? He would have to ask the prince when he woke up again.


	12. Chapter 12

Uther's rage hadn't been soothed by that servant boy's explanation. Maybe they had killed those bandits, maybe not. He certainly wouldn't tolerate anyone residing in his woods who was a danger to the only heir to the throne. Even if that heir was as reckless as his son. What on earth had Arthur been thinking, disobeying his direct order and leaving without any guards? And what was worse: He had needed the help of that impertinent mercenary and that clumsy servant to get out of his own plight! He wouldn't tolerate this kind of behavior from anyone, much less his own son! With these thoughts he pushed open the door to Arthur's chambers and strode towards his son's bed with firm determination.

Seeing his son like this, so pale, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, his body engulfed by far too many bandages, his determination faded for a second and was replaced by a deep worry that soon was followed by a flaming hate against those who had done this to him.

"F-father" he heard Arthur's voice. It wasn't more than a weak whisper that cut deep into Uther's heart and made him gulp. He fought down the urge to make a soothing noise and answered in a harsh tone of voice: "You're awake. Good."

For a second he saw something in his son's eyes that worried him more than the grave wounds on his body. It was an emotion that he couldn't read for sure… Hate? Disdain? No, certainly not! If anything, it had to be fear for Uther's rage! And he was right to be afraid – as soon as he was in any shape to be punished, he would be. A day in the dungeons, maybe a week, or maybe a few hours in the stocks would certainly remind him of his place and his responsibilities towards Camelot and his King! "You disobeyed me" Uther began and stared down at his son, awaiting a sharp reply or any sign of resistance against this accusation.

To his surprise, Arthur didn't argue. Instead he bowed his head and answered: "I-I'm sorry, father."

Finally a fitting reaction! Still he needed to make his point, so Uther snarled: "Yes, I can imagine that you are. But that will not be enough. You endangered the life of the heir to the throne of Camelot and thereby the future of this kingdom."

"I know, father" Arthur replied obediently. "And I am deeply sorry for my rash action. I have made a grave mistake and I am ready to accept my punishment."

At this Uther looked at his son in confusion. That wasn't at all what he had expected. Yes, they _had_ discussed the issue of hunting alone and Uther _had_ commanded him not to leave Camelot without guards until the bandit problem had been resolved, but still… It had only been a hunt. It wasn't like Arthur hadn't been on a hunt with his servant boy before. This could have happened on any occasion, it might even have happened if they had taken guards with them. So why didn't he use any of these arguments? That didn't sound like Arthur at all… But then again – he obviously had been tortured, and he was still suffering far too much from the aftermath of his imprisonment. Maybe this wasn't a good time for a conversation. So Uther just nodded and placed his fingers on his son's hand. "I want you to get well first" he said and mustered a thin smile. Maybe Arthur's actions had been foolish, but at least he was alive. That was the only thing that counted.

XXXXX

"This?" Arthur looked down his chest and at the bronze pendant, then gazed back at Merlin with a look that seemed to lie somewhere between surprise and annoyance. "Merlin, I've always had this. Don't you remember?"

Merlin thought for a brief second that he just got a part of the old, arrogant Arthur back, but he didn't dwell on it. He was sure that he hadn't seen that necklace before, so he just stared at Arthur and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Always always?"

Arthur sighed, obviously quite irritated by now, and replied: "Always always. Now go and muck out the stables or what it is you do all day. I've got some things to do."

Merlin grinned at that. He was relieved to see that his friend had made a miraculously swift recovery and clearly had turned back into his … charming … self. Maybe he had been worried for no good reason. "As my prince commands" he answered with a mocking smile and left the chambers before Arthur could hit him with a pillow.

XXXXX

Gwaine stared in disbelief at the blonde man crossing the room with two, three swift steps and steering towards him with obvious enthusiasm. That was just plain creepy.

"Gwaine!" Arthur called out with a cheerful voice and gave him a firm hug before Gwaine had the chance to react. He was just too surprised to evade or to protest or to … well … to do anything. This wasn't what he had expected once the prince got back on his feet. This was … well, different.

"Eh…" he mumbled and padded Arthur on the back with a hesitating motion. "Good to see you too, ol' chap." Then he tried to free himself from Arthur's grip and sighed in relief as the prince took two steps back and smiled a warm, far too friendly smile. What on earth had those bandits done to him? "So" he said just to avoid the awkward silence that was about to arise, "now that you're up and running, I better be on my way."

Disappointment spread on Arthur's face, but he nodded in understanding and said: "Yes, you better be on your way before anyone recognizes you. With my father and the banishment and all…" His voice trailed off and Gwaine raised an eyebrow in confusion. He couldn't help it, but that somehow sounded like something Arthur had rehearsed, just as if he actually had no idea who Gwaine was and just was putting up a show. No, that didn't make any sense. Why shouldn't he remember him? It was probably nothing more than a temporary memory loss, but…

Maybe he should put it to the test nonetheless. He gave Arthur a lopsided smile and replied in a challenging voice: "Are you afraid that I'm going to continue where we left off? I thought you knew by now that I'm the better fighter."

Instead of mentioning their fight or the conversation following their imprisonment by that bastard Jarl, Arthur just returned the grin and said: "Give me one more day to get my strength back, then we'll see about that."

Gwaine couldn't hide the surprise he felt at that statement. Arthur had completely misunderstood the meaning behind his words, which was more than weird. He would have to talk to Gaius about this later, maybe the physician could explain to him what might have happened to Arthur for his … well, friend … to forget him and everything they had been through together. For now he just agreed to the challenge with a forced grin and sighed in relief as Arthur left his hiding place again.

XXXXX

Morgana let out a long-drawn sigh and continued brushing her hair. Such a shame that Arthur had returned so soon and at all. Though she hadn't had anything to do with the abduction, she hadn't been too upset when news of the attack had reached her. She had, of course, hoped and prayed that the prince wouldn't return, and she was quite disappointed that Uther hadn't punished that nosy Merlin for his incompetence. Such a pity. But she had her own plans for this kingdom and they wouldn't be thwarted by this minor hiccup, much less by that arrogant blonde and his petty little jester.

A knock on the door disturbed her train of thoughts. She turned around and called in a voice as friendly and sweet as she could muster: "Come in." Once she saw who was waiting on the other side, she almost regretted her words. No, she corrected herself, not almost. She really didn't want to see that annoying prince right now. But now it was too late and she forced herself to curl her lips into her most charming smile. "Arthur. I am so glad to see you are well."

Arthur smiled his almost adoring, crooked _I am so glad to see you too, Morgana_-smile that might have worked on her when she was a young and naïve maiden. Not anymore.

"Thank you, Morgana" Arthur answered and entered her chambers. Then he slowly closed the door behind him before turning his gaze back on her. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that look, and she certainly wasn't used to being so alone with him and with the door closed. Something was not right.

Her thoughts were confirmed when he suddenly closed the gap between them with three swift steps and, without any warning, took her face into his hands and placed his lips upon hers passionately, demandingly.

For a heartbeat or two, she was simply too baffled to react, thoughts flooding through her mind of what might have happened to Arthur while he was gone in order to make him insane. She felt the warmth of his strong body pressed against hers, felt his heartbeat, tasted the sweet saltiness of his tongue trying to enter her mouth. Then she finally came to her senses again and pushed herself away from him, and with one dexterous movement she slapped him in the face. "Have you lost your mind?" she screamed mad with anger. „This is outrageous!"

Arthur's look made clear that he didn't seem to understand what was happening. He wore an expression of confusion mixed with something else that she didn't understand and didn't _want_ to understand. She just wanted him gone.

"B-but…" Arthur began, but she cut him off with a harsh gesture. Inside she was still burning with anger, shame, and a tiny hint of fear. Had Arthur guessed her plan? Was this the way he had decided to take his revenge? She had to get rid of him, now.

"Leave. Now. This has never happened!" she said in a firm voice. Arthur was still surprised from the looks of it, but he simply nodded and hurried towards the door, leaving her chambers as fast as possible. Once he had closed the door behind him, she almost sprinted towards it and turned the key in the lock to make sure he didn't change his mind.

On the way back to her desk, her glance fell upon her face in the mirror. She was blushing. She was actually blushing! "You stupid idiot of a prince…" she whispered and turned her face away. What on earth had gotten into him?

XXXXX

Gaius had just finished grounding the violet flower of the vervain and mixed it with a strongly smelling root when someone knocked on the door. Raising an eyebrow, he got up and noticed with a sigh that his back still hurt; a compliment of the years that were finally gaining on him. He opened the door and was surprised to find the prince standing outside, looking just a tiny bit better than yesterday when he had treated him. Whoever had tortured him had done a far too good job – it would take weeks for his body to recover fully.

"What can I do for you, Sire?" Gaius wanted to know and beckoned him to enter his chambers. "Merlin isn't …" he began, but Arthur smiled and cut him off mid-sentence with a gesture.

"I'm here for my medicine, Gaius."

Gaius, who had already been on his way back inside, turned around in surprise. "Your medicine?" he asked just to make sure he had heard correctly.

"Yes" Arthur confirmed with a hint of annoyance. "For my shoulder. The one I get every evening?"

Gaius had to admit that he had no idea what the prince was talking about. The only thing he could think of was the medicine he prepared for the King's old shoulder wound. The look of utter confusion on his old features must have been quite obvious, because Arthur took a deep breath as if to calm himself and said: "I am sorry. I'm still not feeling that well. I shall retire to my chambers."

Gaius considered holding him back in order to examine him once more – he had obviously taken more damage than the one visible on his maltreated body – but the prince quickly closed the door behind him and receded with swift steps, leaving a quite confused court physician behind. Something was wrong, Gaius thought, and he couldn't help but worry for Arthur's health.

XXXXX

He cursed silently while he went back to prince Arthur's chambers. So much for his plan to blend in. He still had a hard time believing that the prince had managed to lie to him while being exposed to such pain. His hate for Uther and his desire for revenge had obviously made him a lot more reckless than he normally would have been. Damn that boy! It would be a miracle if no one suspected anything after today – especially that impertinent Lady Morgana. He would have to execute the next part of his plan sooner than he'd hoped, which on the other hand meant that he would have the opportunity to _talk_ to the boy again sooner than expected.

Another curse left his lips when the pain in his back and chest flared up as he climbed up the stairs. No sacrifice, no victory, he thought grimly. Whoever had said that clearly hadn't had two broken ribs that day. He really wasn't looking forward to a few hours on horseback, but the boy and his lies didn't leave him any choice. He needed to get the powder now.


	13. Chapter 13

_It__ was cold, so terribly, terribly cold. His lips were quivering – heck, his whole body was – and he was sure that they had turned blue if he looked into a mirror. Though he was actually quite happy not to have a mirror around right now. He knew he didn't look good. Some of the wounds had become infected as no one had decided to treat them, and it wouldn't be too long before the fever would set in that would slowly, painstakingly slowly, take him down. He had given up on trying to stay in motion a long time ago, not that he could remember time down here. His body was stiff and had finally gone numb to the pain. At first he had been hungry but even that feeling had subsided after endless hours, days, in his cell. The only thing that still hurt like hell was his thumb, and it was that throbbing feeling that_ finally made him wake up with a gasp.

Merlin sat straight up in bed and stared into the darkness in front of him like he expected to see the dark grey walls of the dungeon that had crossed over into the real world from his dream. Another dream… He was soaked in sweat, but had somehow thrown away his blanket during the night, which explained why he had been so cold. Panting, he tried to calm his wild heartbeat – without success for a few more minutes. He could still feel the pain in his finger that had crossed over as well, making him remember Arthur's expression when Gwaine had washed the wound with fresh water and tied a piece of cloth around it. What a weird, weird dream. Merlin wondered whether Arthur was having a nightmare that recounted his history of suffering, which Merlin somehow had tapped into. But then he remembered the feeling he had had on their way back to Camelot, the feeling that something just wasn't right. That something was still terribly wrong. There had to be more to it. But what? Whatever it was, it wouldn't allow him to find any more sleep that night, so he stood up with a sigh and left the chambers as silently as possible in order not to wake up Gaius. He would go down to the well at the market and get some fresh water to wash away the sweat and then begin with his duties early. Maybe afterwards he could find the time to talk to Arthur about what had happened to him and finally make some sense of his feelings gone wild.

Or maybe he would get that chance even sooner than expected. He had just left the castle, when he made out a shadow disappearing around a corner. Just before it merged with the darkness, a beam of moonlight reflected on golden hair and unveiled the lean figure of the prince riding his white stallion, which was more than strange. What would Arthur do down here at such a late hour? Merlin didn't think twice and hurried after his friend, worried and suspicious at the same time. If Arthur actually had had the same dream about his imprisonment as Merlin, it would certainly explain why he couldn't sleep. But leaving the castle at night was a different matter, especially on horseback. Something was off and Merlin decided that he wanted to know what.

Sneaking after the prince was easy; at least until he reached the gate leading out of Camelot and into the woods behind the large city. From a distance he could see Arthur arguing with two guards who finally lowered their spears and allowed him to pass. Merlin knew he wouldn't be as lucky. He was a mere servant and wouldn't be allowed to come and go as he pleased at this time of night. He swore silently under his breath and stared after the prince until he had disappeared.

What on earth was going on? He would have to ask him the next day. As he had asked him about the pendant? No, that wouldn't work. He would have to think of something else to find out what was happening.

XXXXX

How many hours, how many days had passed? Arthur had completely lost track of time by now, his thoughts a wild mixture of pain, fear and despair. He still remembered the terrible transformation that had left Scar Face looking exactly like him down to the last detail. Even the fingernail was missing. His enemy had really put his back into it, literally speaking, as the spell had given him each and every single wound Arthur had had to suffer through, which explained his comment about the broken ribs. If Arthur hadn't been on the brink of complete exhaustion, he probably would have admired the man's commitment. And if he hadn't been far too afraid of what the man would do to him once he discovered just how false the information had been, which Arthur had given him. Then again – how much worse could it get?

When Scar Face finally came, Arthur's theory proved to be right. It was bad, but certainly not worse. A lot of cursing, a few more blows to the head, a few more cuts with the knife he already had met, a nasty kick to the stomach, but no whiplashes this time. He guessed that he would have to consider himself lucky, getting off that easily. Maybe it was the fever that made his body more immune to pain, or maybe it was the exhaustion. Arthur didn't know and he didn't care. He just wanted to sink back into a dark, dreamless sleep where he couldn't feel the cold, the pain or the fear for the life of his friends and everyone in Camelot.

But then Scar Face hissed: "Uther is as good as dead. And once I don't need this disguise anymore, I can't wait to …" At that he made a crushing gesture with his right hand that explained his intentions very well, better than words could have done.

The threat returned just a minor spark of energy to Arthur's maltreated body and he tried to follow up on it by giving his foe an expression of defiance and pride, one last time. He knew that the next time Scar Face got back, the cold and his wounds would have done their part and there probably wouldn't be any resistance left in him. He also knew that next time, he would probably die.

Scar Face acknowledged Arthur's gaze with some kind of grudging admiration and a nod, then he left the prince alone once more in the cold darkness. Again Arthur tried to guess how much time had passed, and again he failed. He didn't know Scar Face's plan, but from the words and his role in this so far, he deducted that the man would try to murder his father through inconspicuous means, probably by using a slowly working poison that would convey the impression that the King had fallen ill. If his plan had been a real assassination, he wouldn't have gone through all the (painful) trouble of taking on Arthur's identity and gathering information about Arthur's relation to others at court. His next words must mean that he only could take on Arthur's appearance as long as the prince was alive, but how long did he need this disguise? Did he want to take over the throne afterwards? Or did he just want to throw Camelot into chaos by killing both its King and the heir to the throne?

Arthur didn't know, but right now he feared for the worst. His thoughts wandered off to his friends at court and he tried to imagine Gwen's beautiful smile that shone brighter than the summer's sun and had conquered his heart beyond recovery. He had not mentioned her with one word when Scar Face had asked for anyone in Camelot that his heart belonged to, too afraid that she somehow might end up in the crossfire if his opponent thought her connected to him in any way. What would she think now, with this impostor treating her like a normal servant?

XXXXX

Gwen didn't understand. She knew they had to be careful after everything that had happened with Morgana, but still… Not one word? Not a single smile? It was as if she didn't even exist anymore. Like he just didn't see her. And now this. Gwen was close to tears when Morgana told her about the unexpected visitor she had had yesterday afternoon and apparently she quite enjoyed to recount everything with far too … juicy … details. It hurt. It hurt so much that she wanted to just leave her mistress' chambers and find some deep, dark hole to hide in. Arthur had _kissed_ her? He had _kissed_ her? It just didn't make any sense!

„Is everything alright, Gwen?" Morgana asked innocently.

Gwen nodded slowly and continued to make the bed. „Of course, my Lady" she answered, forcing a smile on her face that almost cost her more energy than she had left. "I am just … shocked" she added. "It must have been terrible for you."

"Actually" Morgana replied with a sly grin. "It was quite fun, now that I have had time to think about it. Poor boy must be out of his mind after recent events."

"Yes, probably" Gwen agreed, though she wasn't so sure about this explanation. There had to be something else going, something she hadn't thought about yet. Maybe she should talk to Merlin and Daisy Boy, after all they had been the ones to save him. But before that she would have to tend to her duties and suppress her feelings. It would help neither her nor him if she wore them like an open book.

"Before you go" Morgana held her back as she was just about to recede, "would you mind helping Mariabelle out with tending to the King today? She is not feeling well."

Gwen looked back in surprise. "Of course, milady" she simply answered in hopes of getting away from Morgana as quickly as possible. Though she had decided to simply work through the day, every glimpse she caught of her mistress reminded her of the kiss Morgana and Arthur had shared.

"Must be the flu" she heard Morgana mutter behind her as she walked out of the chamber. "The King said he felt strange after breakfast too."

XXXXX

Finding out what was happening proved to be quite difficult. By now Merlin wasn't sure that it was such a good thing to have the old Arthur back. Up until now he had prepared breakfast, mucked out the stables, cleaned more boots than he cared to count, polished the prince's armor and gathered herbs for some potion for Uther that Gaius was working on; apparently the King had caught a mild cold. Now he was cleaning up Arthur's mess of a room, and it wasn't even afternoon yet! His daily chores really didn't leave much room for any investigation, neither about the necklace nor about the strange disappearance at night. Arthur had been back in his bed the following morning, though it proved to be quite hard to wake him up, not even to mention getting him to actually muster the strength to get up and get dressed. And he was in a bad mood. So Merlin had decided to put his investigation on hold until later that day, which had turned into much later which had turned into … well … nothing. And now he would have to witness a fight between two stubborn heads that he really didn't look forward to. Great.

XXXXX

„Well then, let's see what you've got" Arthur called out with one of those arrogant grins that could drive Gwaine mad. A noble. Why did he have to befriend a noble? He rolled his eyes as the prince made some dexterous movements with his sword that looked quite skillful, but wouldn't have accomplished anything in a real fight. Then he grabbed his own sword tighter and brought himself in a defensive position. Arthur had actually decided to go through with his plan. They had met in the woods just outside of Camelot with no spectators except for Merlin who was standing guard.

"I'm ready" Gwaine replied and waited impatiently for Arthur to make his first move. He felt his muscles tensioning once the prince stopped fooling around with his weapon and hefted his gaze upon his adversary.

"Then defend yourself!" Arthur yelled and charged without further ado.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow at the far too open attack. That wasn't really Arthur's style, not as he knew it anyways, and it most certainly wasn't a strategically correct move. Gwaine simply had to wait for the prince to come closer, then make a step to one side and let him run into his own weapon. Far too easy. Was he testing him? Maybe it was some kind of trick? He was quite sure that Arthur normally wouldn't fight dirty, but then again… He had seen Gwaine fight, had _fought_ him, so maybe he was just trying to apply the mercenary's methods? No more time for thought. Gwaine evaded with ease, but instead of ending the fight right here and then, he dealt him a blow with the hilt of his sword that brought him out of balance, then gave Arthur a chance to get back on both feet. That had been too easy. Something was off. It _had_ to be a trick.

"Very good" Arthur panted (_panted?_) and tried another tactic, that was a little more skillfully carried out, but still strangely rough. Maybe he was still too shaken up from the abduction and the torture? Gwaine decided to take it easy, but he couldn't help but feel puzzled as he parried blow after blow and avoided exploiting unprotected openings and still seemed to win just by being in the better physical condition.

After a while he couldn't keep the act up anymore, though. If Arthur was actually toying with him, then he would be able to defend himself when Gwaine attacked him for real. If he wasn't…. well, then at least the fight would be over, one way or another. So he charged. While protecting his flank, he feigned a lunge and noticed with surprise how Arthur fell for it. Typical beginner's mistake. Then his sword clashed against Arthur's, the blade running around it faster and faster, until Arthur was unable to keep his weapon in his hand. With an angry yell, he jumped back as Gwaine closed in, but he was too slow and soon found himself confronted with the tip of Gwaine's sword at his throat.

"See? Told you I'd win if no one stopped us" he grinned, before bowing down and gathering up his adversary's sword. He almost felt pleased with himself when he saw Arthur scowl, but just almost. This hadn't been a real fight. Something was seriously wrong with his annoyingly noble friend. But what?

XXXXX

Hours passed and Gwen was surprised at her own theatrical skills. Somehow she managed to smile when spoken to, to answer without bursting into tears when asked a question and to tend to her duties without thinking about Arthur every single second of the day. Now all that was left to do for her was to clean up after the King's evening meal and serve him a glass of wine, then she would finally be able to make her way to Merlin's chambers to find out what on earth was going on. She actually found herself humming as she gathered the plates, put them on a tray and carried them down to the kitchen. A servant boy smiled at her as she entered the room and relieved her of the tray to take care of the dishes. Gwen returned the smile and found a bottle of the King's favorite red wine which she poured into a large golden goblet. Her thoughts wandered back to Arthur and a time when a sorceress had tried to kill him by making him drink from a poisoned chalice much like this one. Merlin had ended up drinking from it instead and Arthur had been ready to sacrifice his own life to save his servant. How many years had passed since that day! All he had been to her until then was an arrogant, selfish bully, but he had proved to be quite a different man once she had gotten to know him better. An honorable man, gallant and brave. The man she loved with all her heart. What could have happened to him that would have changed him like that? It didn't make any sense at all. She made her way back to the King's chambers and was suddenly surprised, when Arthur stepped in her way and gazed at her with an almost indifferent look.

"Give me the goblet, servant girl."

Servant girl? Gwen felt how the tears began filling her eyes again, but she managed to fight them down and stammered confused: "B-but… It's for the King…"

Arthur's look grew considerably colder at these words and he reached out for the chalice demandingly. "Are you questioning my authority, servant?"

This time Gwen couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face. Without another word she handed the goblet to Arthur, turned around and moved away from him as fast as her long dress would allow her. Her thoughts were in turmoil, and her heart felt like it was about to be ripped apart. This couldn't be happening. This just couldn't be happening! Even if Arthur was doing this to protect her, he would never treat a servant like this. This just wasn't right! She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around as if hoping that he might send her an apologetic look, a small smile, anything that could prove to her that he _did _care. That this just was a part of his plan to keep her safe. But what she saw instead made her freeze inside. Arthur stared intently into the red wine, his lips moved though she couldn't hear anything, and then he lifted up a small pouch that he had been carrying in his other hand. Its content trickle into the wine like glittering starlight, and for a second a bright light filled the corridor. For a heartbeat, Gwen was stunned. Was Arthur… was he poisoning the King? She suddenly remembered something Morgana had said, something about the King being sick… and then the full understanding of what she had just observed hit her and she hurried away, hoping that Arthur (_Arthur?_) hadn't noticed her. No, not Arthur. She didn't know who this man was, but one thing was for sure: It wasn't the prince of Camelot! She had to do something, and fast!

Lifting her dress up above her ankles, she ran down a flight of stairs and made her way towards Gaius' chambers. As much as she despised Uther, she wouldn't let him die by the hand of this impostor!

XXXXX

Merlin sighed and sat down on his bed, pondering about whether it was a good idea to go to sleep. Would he be haunted by this terrible dream again? He thought briefly about mentioning Arthur's necklace to Gaius, but decided against it. Something was wrong with his friend – he had clearly seen it in the fight between him and Gwaine, but still he was sure that it must have something to do with everything Arthur had been through. Then again… the dream had felt far too real for his taste…

A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts and he looked up just in time to see Gaius enter his chamber. "It's Gwen" he said in a voice deeply filled with worry, and Merlin didn't waste one precious second. He stormed passed Gaius and stood at the servant girl's side within a heartbeat. She seemed to be alright physically, but the tears running down her cheeks spoke volumes. Of course Merlin had noticed how coolly Arthur had treated Gwen since his return, but he had thought it to be a disguise meant to protect them both, something they had agreed upon before. Apparently he had been wrong. He wanted to take her into his arms to comfort her, but she pushed his hand away and stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"He's not Arthur" she cried out. Before Merlin had a chance to react she continued: "He's trying to poison the King. We have to hurry!"

Images flickered through Merlin's mind at these words – the dungeon, the cold, the pain – but he hadn't time to digest them, because Gwen already had grabbed his hand and pulled him with her. Gaius followed them as they ran through the corridors of Camelot towards the King's chambers. Arthur trying to poison Uther? If the situation hadn't been so serious, Merlin would have laughed at that thought. If anyone was loyal to that brutal ruler of Camelot, it was his son. If Gwen actually had seen Arthur take action against the King, then… it couldn't be Arthur. Which made sense. His nightmare, the pendant, the sword fight, the memory loss, everything could be explained by that simple deduction.

The man they had brought back wasn't his friend.

They had almost reached the door, when it was opened from the inside and Arthur entered the corridor, closely followed by the King. Both were smiling, but frowned when they discovered the three figures hurrying towards them. Uther turned his attention towards Gaius, who came to a sudden stop behind Merlin and Gwen.

"Gaius" the King said with obvious dismay. He looked very, very tired, Merlin thought. „What brings you here in the middle of the night?"

At these words, Merlin tried to read Arthur's expression, but the prince looked just as surprised as his father. Had he been wrong?

Behind him, Gaius was searching for words and ended up with an unconvincing "Ah… I… We… I was just wondering whether you might need some more of my medicine before going to sleep, Sire." The physician smiled helplessly and was joined by Gwen and Merlin, though Merlin felt how terribly his smile failed.

Fortunately, Uther seemed to be too tired to pay any attention to their weak explanation and muttered: "How thoughtful of you. But I don't think that will be necessary. Good night, Gaius." Then he padded his son on the shoulder and said "Well then, it is late. Thank you, Arthur. We really should do this more often." Arthur returned the smile and gave a nod in the direction of Gaius, then turned around and walked to his own chambers. Before opening the door, he looked back for a fraction of a second, and what Merlin saw in his look sent cold shivers down his spine. What he saw was pure hate.

XXXXX

„I am so, so sorry" Gwen said on the way back. She had somehow managed to fight down the tears, but Merlin could feel that she was still upset. She had explained to them what she had seen, had told them about the powder and the light, but even if she told the truth, nothing had happened and they couldn't prove anything. Maybe she had the same problem Merlin had had – a nightmare, nothing more. But then again… That look that Arthur had given him had been real. That hadn't been Arthur, couldn't have been.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for" he told her in a firm tone of voice. "You were right to tell us about this." By now they had reached the physician's wing and now sat down around the small table that made out Gaius' lab. "There is something wrong with Arthur" Merlin continued. "And I think we all know that."

At that both Gaius and Gwen nodded in unison.

"I thought something was fishy when he asked about that medicine" Gaius mumbled and told them about the evening before when Arthur had visited him. Merlin noticed how a shiver went through Gwen while she listened to Gaius' tale, then she sighed deeply and told them about her run-ins with Arthur and about his encounter with Morgana. Merlin listened closely and finished their stories with a short recount of the match between Gwaine and Arthur (if it could be called that) and Arthur's reaction towards his questions about the pendant. The dreams, however, he decided to leave out as they were far too close to magic abilities.

"In other words…" he closed his speech. "…I don't think it's Arthur."

For a few seconds they sat there in silence, then Gwen said with a sniffle: "Well… I thought as much. But what do we do about it?"

That was a good question. Luckily, Merlin already knew the answer to that one.


	14. Chapter 14

"So we are leaving Camelot in the middle of the night because you have a _hunch_?" Gwaine asked with some kind of a grumbling sound. He had just gone to bed in the makeshift bed that Gwen had made for him in her house and dreamed about a very cute, brown-haired girl when Merlin had woken him up with a far too serious expression on his face and told him about a hunch he had about Arthur. He had had a _hunch_ too, of course, and he had decided to do something about it too – but in the morning after a good night's sleep. Now that Merlin looked at him with this well-known, doe-eyed expression, he knew that he probably wouldn't get any sleep at all that night. But then again – what was life without a few surprises?

"We have to go now. If I'm right, Arthur will leave Camelot soon and we need to be prepared to follow him" Merlin explained, which actually didn't explain anything.

Still Gwaine smiled at these words and nodded to show Merlin that he understood. His friend's face lightened up and Gwaine could tell how relieved the young servant was. "Alright then" he added and got up. "But would you care to explain to me _why_ we are following him?"

"Because it's not Arthur" Merlin answered with a mischievous grin.

Gwaine sighed. Yeah, that made a lot more sense.

XXXXX

Now that they had more time, it was a lot easier to find a way out of Camelot in the middle of the night. It wasn't like Merlin hadn't needed a secret way out before, after all, he remembered with a grin while he and Gwaine moved silently through a tunnel that would bring them to the forest outside the castle walls. There, horses would wait for them that he had fastened to a tree earlier that evening when he had begun working on his plan to discover the truth behind Arthur's weird behavior. Then the horses had been a last resort, but now he was glad that he had thought about the possibility that he might have to follow the fake prince on his nightly venture. He had explained everything to Gwaine on their way and wasn't surprised when his friend told him that he actually had had the same thoughts about the prince, especially after that "terrible performance" in the forest, as he called it. "I know I'm better than him" Gwaine had said. "But, I have to admit, not _that_ much better."

They hadn't had to wait as long as Merlin had feared: After about an hour of standing in the shadows of the forest and keeping a wary eye on the town's gate, the lean figure of a man sitting on a white horse left Camelot and took a path straight towards the woods of Marbor where everything had begun.

"That _is_ weird" Gwaine mumbled as they gave their own horses signals to follow the prince. Merlin had to agree. He was quite sure that his theory proved to be correct, but it still lacked some serious explanation: _If_ that was a fake Arthur, then what had happened to the real Arthur? _If_ that was an impostor, what did he want in Camelot if clearly it wasn't to take over the throne as he could have done in the evening? _If _that actually was his friend, why would he behave so strangely and leave the town in the middle of the night? He was missing some important pieces of the puzzle, but he was sure that they would find those pieces once they found out where the fake prince was leading them.

The ride took almost two hours and by then Merlin's nerves were stretched to breaking point. He and Gwaine hadn't talked at all in order to not alarm the impostor, but Merlin could feel how the tension had spread to his companion too. When they finally saw the alley that led down to a large mansion, Merlin gave a sigh of relief. At last they knew where their fake prince was headed, though Merlin had never been here before nor heard of this place. On the barred gate at the end of the alley, there was a large crest with the picture of an eagle that somehow seemed familiar to him, but it looked as shabby as the gate and the house behind it. The west wing of the mansion was all but in ruins, as if a ravenous fire had raged through it many years ago. The main part of the house as well as an annex to its right were in a bad shape with the roof having collapsed in some places and almost all windows being either shattered or barred with wooden boards. At first glance he wouldn't have thought that somebody actually lived here, but then he saw a dim light behind one of the open windows that might stem from a lantern or a small fireplace.

"The silver eagle" Gwaine whispered as if in a sudden understanding and pointed at the gate. "So that's what he meant." He signaled his horse to stop and gave Merlin a determined look. "We better leave them here and follow him on foot." Merlin nodded in agreement and climbed down, tying the horse to a nearby tree again. He would have to find some really tasty snacks for their patient mounts once they got back to Camelot, he pondered. From a distance he could see how "Arthur" followed their example and tied his horse to the gate, then turned to the left and entered the mansion grounds through a small hole in the wall that Merlin hadn't noticed until now.

"Let's take a closer look" Gwaine whispered and crouched towards the house hidden by the shadow of some trees and bushes. The moon was bright today, so they had to be careful not to be seen if watchful eyes were looking. Merlin's gaze wandered over the dark spots where windows once had been and he shuddered. Maybe they had placed guards somewhere up there? He tried to follow Gwaine as silently and elegantly as possible, but once again he had to discover that cat-like movements just weren't his strong side. At one point he noticed out of the corner of his eye how Gwaine made some weird gestures, pointing at his eyes, then at Merlin, then tapping his fingers on the grass, then pointing at himself. It didn't really make any sense, because as far as Merlin could see there was nothing that warranted the gesture, so he just nodded and continued to follow his friend, who noticed it with a sigh. Had he been supposed to wait? One day, he decided, he should simply ask Arthur and Gwaine what these strange gestures actually meant.

Once they reached the hole in the wall, Gwaine looked around suspiciously, but he didn't seem to find anything that looked like a threat. At the same time, a large cloud moved in front of the moon and seemed to beckon them to use their chance now. So they entered the grounds and hurried to hide behind some rubble in a corner as soon as the cloud had drifted past. Then they sneaked onwards, passing the ruins of the west wing on their right and moving around to the back of the mansion. The fake Arthur had entered the house through the front door, but that wasn't a possibility for them. At one point there were bound to be guards, and behind the main entrance was a quite likely position for them. Suddenly, Merlin noticed something changing in Gwaine's posture. He tensed, then, as Merlin was about to whisper "W-what?", almost flew around and put his hand on Merlin's mouth. Merlin fell silent, and not a second to soon. Above them, coming from one of the open windows, came a voice.

"I'm sure I 'eard somethin'" a man said in an urging tone of voice. "Came from down 'ere." Merlin felt how Gwaine pressed him closer against the wall they had used as a cover. They could hear the creaking of the window sill as someone leaned on it. Merlin's heart beat fast and painfully against his chest – had they been discovered?

XXXXX

"Probably cats" Thomas replied to Janus' comment and leaned on the window sill to get a better look at the dark garden below. "There are lots of them here." As he could see nothing, he looked back at his companion and shrugged. What else should it have been? No one knew that someone still lived here, especially because no one _had_ lived here for the last 20 years. That their Lord suddenly had decided to use this old pile of rubble as a hideout had surprised him, but then again – who was he to question the commands of the man who paid his quite considerable salary? It was probably some kind of revenge thing, Thomas assumed. He hadn't been around when their Lord had gotten those scars that now marked and named him, but the others had told stories, especially that large one, Rogar. Apparently he had already served Scar before everything had gone down the tube for him.

He heard Janus grunt beside him. "Can't wait for this to be over. Can't wait to move into that fancy castle an' all."

He hated that sloppy accent of his companion, but as long as they were in this together he would just have to live with it. Still the comment made him laugh. He wasn't as sure of this plan as Janus, and he could most certainly not imagine to live in Camelot, but if it actually worked he would be set for life. That was worth a little risk. So he simply answered: „Yeah well, let's see what he says now that he's back."

"I really wouldn't wanna be that boy" Janus sniggered. "'ave you 'eard what Rogar said yesterday? All that false information the boy 'ad fed 'im? Was pretty smart, apparently. Did you 'ear 'im scream last night? Don't think Scar was too nice to him, if you know what I mean."

At that Thomas simply snorted in reply, but added a short moment later: "Yeah, very smart to risk a slow and painful death." Didn't that idiot understand that this was exactly the kind of glitch in their plan that could make the whole thing come crashing down upon them and every dream of a life of luxury? He just hoped that no one at court had noticed, or at least not showed any further consideration for the prince's weird behavior. Twenty years of planning, as far as he'd heard, for nothing if someone suspected something.

Before they could continue this conversation (if you could call it that, Thomas thought with a sigh), the black haired boy came into the room and looked at them with worried eyes.

"Rogar says he's found something" he whispered and pointed at the door.

_Or some_one_?_ Thomas thought as he followed the boy down to the main floor.


	15. Chapter 15

"Did you 'ear 'im scream last night?"

The words were still wandering through Merlin's mind, and they weren't the kind of information he had hoped for, but at least it meant that Arthur was still alive. At least for now. They had to get in there and find him before the fake one could do any more harm. But how? From above they could hear a third voice, though they couldn't understand what it said, followed by steps moving away; the two – three, he corrected himself – men were most likely already on their way back into the house. How many were they? Maybe it would have been smarter to ride back to Camelot and get some of the King's men… But did Arthur have that much time? If their adversary's plan had worked – whatever it was – then maybe this was the last chance he and Gwaine would have to get their friend out of here alive. No, they would have to act now.

As if on cue he felt Gwaine tug at his shirt, and as he followed his friend's gaze he could see what he had discovered: A few feet in front of them was a staircase leading down into something that was probably an old wine cellar. The entrance was blocked by a large wooden door that looked far too new for this ruin. And what was even more interesting was the large lock. If you would keep someone imprisoned in a mansion as ruined as this, then a cellar built from solid stone was probably the best place you could do so. But how to open that door? It would make far too much noise if Gwaine simply worked on it with his sword, and he couldn't use magic as long as Gwaine was around… Unless…

He spun around and made some erratic gestures towards the corner they just had passed before the two men had heard them, and as expected Gwaine directed all of his attention towards it, expecting an immediate threat. Merlin used his chance to focus on the door and whispered as silently as possible: "Tospringe!", which caused the lock to open with a far too audible "click". Gwaine turned around again, his eyes still wide in shock, but he didn't say anything and simply moved towards the door slowly and silently. _One day he just will _have_ to guess my secret_, Merlin thought. _But apparently it's not today_.

XXXXX

Gwaine stared at the door for a second and tried to make sense of the lucky circumstance that it apparently wasn't locked. Lucky… How come he always was this lucky when his friend was with him? Opponents who suddenly tripped on rocks that he hadn't even seen before, blows that somehow seemed to be deflected, and now locks that suddenly opened up without as much as a key close by. This was more than weird, though of course he didn't complain.

_One day I will _have_ to ask him directly_, Gwaine thought. _But right now's probably not a good time_.

XXXXX

The magic had done its trick – the large wooden door moved without as much as a creaking sound and revealed a view of a long corridor, only sparingly alit by torchlight, with various doors on the left side leading into the area below the mansion and several niches on the right that were large enough to hold a statue or maybe two barrels of wine, but were currently empty. Merlin entered the quite chilly hallway and noticed how Gwaine closed the door as silently as possible. On their right side, Merlin could make out a staircase leading up, and at the end of the corridor he saw another door that was in a much better shape than the other ones. Was that Arthur's cell? Gwaine seemed to have the same thought when he pointed at it and whispered: "There."

They had only taken a single step towards the door when a sound emerged from the stairs, echoing loud and clear through the hallway. Gwaine reacted quickly and managed to push Merlin into one of the alcoves before squeezing himself into the narrow space. _That's twice_, Merlin thought as he felt the warmth of Gwaine's well-toned body against his own. _I should really work on my reflexes_. The extra body weight pressing on his chest made it hard to breathe, but did not dare to move at all. Right now they were in the shadows and would probably not be seen unless someone was searching for them, but the slightest sound might still betray them.

The steps came closer, then Merlin could see out of the corner of his eye how someone passed them by without as much as glance in their direction. The light of a nearby torch reflected on blonde hair and the lean stature of the man in the hallway left no doubt that they had found their impostor. The man was walking straight toward the door at the end of the corridor, then turned a key in the lock and entered the room on the other side of the door. Only seconds later they could hear him say something – something about a… nuisance?

"Guess we better do something" Gwaine whispered and left the niche, already readying his sword. Merlin took a deep breath, pulled out his own weapon from its sheath and together they drew closer to the alleged prison…

XXXXX

Arthur's heartbeat accelerated when he heard the key being turned in its lock. Was Scar Face already back? Had so many days passed? No, that couldn't be. There couldn't have passed more than a day…

The prince tried to lift his head, but by now his body was completely drained of energy and all he could muster was the strength to close his eyelids at the sudden burst of light that entered the cellar when the door was opened.

"You really, really know how to be a nuisance" he heard Scar Face's voice, though his adversary seemed to know that he couldn't expect an answer from his captive, because he continued only a second later with a deep sigh: "All those annoying friends of yours. A far too nosy servant. A far too arrogant mercenary. A far too lovesick servant girl."

The last sentence stirred something inside Arthur that he didn't even knew he possessed anymore; a sudden rush of warmth mixed with cold fear. "I-if you have touched Gwen…" he said in a shivering voice and somehow managed to lift his head to look directly at Scar Face's unnervingly familiar face. He looked a lot better, which wasn't that much of a surprise after a few days of Gaius' treatment.

The man's lips turned into a mocking grin. "Then what? What would you do if I told you that I really enjoyed her before I accused her of witchcraft and watched her burn at the stake?"

Arthur could feel how his heart skipped a beat and then galloped on driven only by a fear so deep it washed everything else away. Before his inner eye he could see Gwen smile, but the smile soon turned into a scream of anguish as red flames licked up her rough servant's dress, higher and higher. It couldn't be true!

Suddenly, another voice reached his ear. A voice he remembered vaguely and that didn't seem to fit into this place at all. But he was glad to hear it nonetheless. "I don't know what Arthur would do, but I would call you a liar."


	16. Chapter 16

How low could someone sink? Gwaine had listened to the fake Arthur's words with revulsion, noticing with worry how hard they hit his friend. He still didn't know how many enemies there were in this mansion, but he couldn't wait one second longer. Arthur was clearly in a bad shape – far worse than when they had found "him" in the cave in the woods – and the news of Gwen's death seemed to be too much for his battered body and mind to take. So Gwaine decided to cast away all caution and entered the room with words that would help Arthur regain his hope.

"I don't know what Arthur would do, but I would call you a liar."

The fake prince whirled around with a surprised yelp, but he didn't stand a chance as the cold steel of Gwaine's blade ran him through. Gwaine had seen men die too many times, so he was quite familiar with the shocked expression on his adversary's face, the lips that parted to let out one last, quivering question, the eyes that finally broke and lost all signs of life. In this case, Gwaine actually enjoyed every second of it, and he waited a few seconds longer than necessary to pull out his sword and rid himself of the body with a disgusted motion. Maybe Uther would have liked to question the impostor, maybe Arthur would have liked to take his revenge on him – he didn't care. All that mattered was that the man was dead and couldn't misuse anyone as a _messenger_ ever again, especially not his friend.

XXXXX

„I thought you'd never come" Arthur said to Merlin in a voice that tried to sound cheerful and firm, but somehow ended up being the exact opposite. Still Merlin admired him for even trying. In a situation like this, after having been chained up for more than three days in this musky, chilly cellar, and after having endured that kind of torture and suffering, he would probably not have been able to move at all, much less speak in coherent sentences.

Gwaine's lips curled into a crooked grin and he said with a shrug: "Ah well, we had way too much fun with your doppelgänger to have time for a rescue mission."

At these words, Arthur somehow managed to smile too, though the pain he was in was obvious. "It's good to see you too, Gwaine" he said.

"It's good to hear you remember my name" Gwaine shot back and looked critically at the blood dripping from his blade. Merlin was already searching the impostor's body for the keys necessary to free his friend, far too concentrated to engage in the banter between the two men. He heard Arthur ask about Gwen and his father, but Gwaine answered before he had the chance. When he had finally found what he was looking for, he hurried over to Arthur's side and removed the shackles holding him, while Gwaine stood ready to catch the prince's body just in case. Once more Merlin felt a surge of admiration when Arthur was able to stand on his own two legs – at least for a heartbeat or two. Then he began fighting for his balance and accepted Gwaine's outstretched hand with a thankful gaze.

"We better hurry" Merlin said and pointed at the door. "This was far too …" He didn't have a chance to add the word "easy". Before he had finished his sentence, the sound of steps emerged from the other side of the corridor, the sound of heavy boots running down the staircase. A male voice yelled "Intruders, my Lord!", then Merlin could see a giant of a man crossing the corner into the corridor and running towards them with a broadsword lifted high above his head. Behind him, three more men followed suit, carrying pitted swords. The latter of them looked somehow familiar, Merlin noticed, but he hadn't the time to focus on that fact.

Gwaine cursed and helped Arthur lie down, before he readied his own sword and took a defensive stance in the doorway between the prince and the attackers. Merlin's heartbeat accelerated in fear as he looked for a way out. The tunnel was, apart from the torches, empty, so there was nothing he could use to knock out just some of their adversaries. Though maybe he could use the doors to his advantage… While he had been thinking, the huge man had reached them and attacked Gwaine with a heavy blow that caused him to retreat back into the cell. Merlin hoped he was alright, but right now he had his own foes to think about. Focusing his magic on one of the doors closest to him, he compelled it to jump open just before two of the villains reached it. One of them managed to evade at the last second, but the other one ran straight into it and was propelled into the room lying behind it as Merlin slammed it shut with another magic wave. One less to worry about. Unfortunately the other two were already too close for him to use that trick a second time. He readied himself and parried the first blow, ducked himself under the next one and jumped back into the room behind him, just in time to hear the giant roar: "What have you done?" Merlin suspected that he was talking about the dead man lying on the floor, probably the "my Lord" he had mentioned in his warning shout before, but he didn't have the time to think more about the title right now. He had to do something about those two attackers.

XXXXX

What _he_ had done? Was the man serious? He had just killed the bad guy who had mistreated and tortured innocent people. Still he replied in a voice that clearly expressed what he thought about the dead villain: "I could have asked him the same question". His opponent didn't seem to be impressed, and Gwaine had to evade another attack before he finally landed a blow of his own against the giant's hip. As the man simply grunted and fought on like nothing had happened, he thought two things: 1) He had heard that voice before, that night in the tavern stable. Rogar, if he remembered correctly. 2) He had a serious problem. The latter filled a lot more than the first, as he had to duck and evade again and again. He had a slight advantage as the giant's size worked against him down here, but what he lacked in dexterousness, he made up for in pure muscle strength: Gwaine knew that he would be taken out of the equation for good or at least for a while if that broadsword hit him, so right now he just tried not to be struck by the glistening blade. He wondered if Merlin was still alright – he hadn't seen how many more had followed Rogar, but he was pretty sure that they needed Merlin's _luck_ now more than ever.

XXXXX

Merlin directed his attention towards the old barrels lying and standing around inside the room and used his magic abilities to hurl one of them against the two men running through the doorway. Again he was lucky enough to hit one of them who passed out instantly, but he hadn't expected the other one to be quite so dexterous. With one swift motion the man jumped across the barrel and hit Merlin against the temple with the hilt of his sword. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and he staggered backwards, tripping over something that he first realized to be Arthur's legs when it was already too late. The prince moaned but didn't move and Merlin could see that he had lost consciousness, which actually was quite lucky. Above him, the attacker had raised his sword, aiming for Merlin's unprotected chest. With a whispered "Inbringe, cume mec", Merlin brought another barrel between him and the weapon and noticed with satisfaction that his adversary hadn't seen that one coming. The blade of his sword pierced its way into the old wood, and as he tried to pull it up again, Merlin pushed the barrel away with a grim smile and sent his adversary flying across the room with it.

A yelp of pain caught his attention and he saw with a gasp that the giant finally had managed to find a weak spot in Gwaine's defense: His long blade had pierced Gwaine's leather armor at the shoulder and made its way through flesh, pinning his friend against the stone wall beside him.

"You will pay for this!" the attacker yelled and pulled the weapon out with a motion so forceful that Gwaine let out a loud, anguished cry. His back slid down the wall, and he gazed up in fear as the man pushed forward with his weapon once more, this time aiming for Gwaine's heart. Merlin reacted swiftly, grabbing his own sword and jumping in between the two adversaries. It was a stupid move, he realized too late, but he hadn't had any time to think. His own strength was nothing compared to his attacker. As the blade hit his own sword, his arms were simply forced down so violently as if they were being pulled out of his shoulders, but at least he managed to avert the deadly attack enough for Gwaine to get back to his feet and pick up his sword. Though it looked as if using his right arm was almost impossible due to the pain, Gwaine somehow managed to use the giant's surprise to his advantage and drove the tip of his own blade through the man's side, but as before he only grunted and advanced with unmitigated force. Merlin had no choice but to hope that Gwaine was too distracted by the battle to notice his friend using magic: He whispered "Hætende"and watched with a fierce expression as the giant gasped in surprise and let go off his sword that for a second looked like it was in flames. Merlin could see how Gwaine raised an eyebrow, but he didn't even glance back at his friend. Instead he exploited his chance and threw himself forward, this time putting all of his strength into this one blow that went straight through his adversary's stomach.

As tough as their enemy had proven to be until now, this one hit seemed to be doing the trick: A gurgling sound left the man's throat, followed by a bloody cough, then he fell to his knees and stared up at Gwaine in disbelief. His large body finally dropped to one side and he remained still.

This didn't leave them much more than a second's rest: The man which Merlin had hurled through the wine cellar had come to his senses again and charged with an angry yell, but he had neither the skill nor the strength to be a serious opponent for Gwaine, who simply evaded the crude attack and ran the blade through the man's back as he passed him by. Even though it had looked easy, Merlin saw how much pain that simple movement had caused his friend.

"Two more" Merlin called out in the same second as a shimmering shadow passed him by and found its way into the third man who had been knocked down by the barrel in the entrance, but already had made it back to his feet.

"One" Gwaine grinned and looked at the dagger hilt that seemed to grow out of the bandit's chest. The man toppled over and laid still. From outside the corridor, they could hear a loud rumbling sound and Merlin remembered the one he had caught outside the cell. He had obviously brought down the wooden door by now and entered the room with a loud roar that trailed off into a shocked gasp as he discovered that all of his comrades had fallen. No, Merlin noticed with awe. He focused on one specific. With a howl he threw his sword away and was at the fake Arthur's side within a heartbeat, yelling a word that Merlin didn't understand at first: "Ærfæder!". _Magic?_ he thought, alarmed.

Then two things happened at once: Merlin recognized the young man lying and wailing on the floor, and Gwaine's sword found its way through the henchman's back before Merlin could have stopped him. The young man's eyes widened as he glared down at the bloody red metal that had penetrated his chest. For a second Merlin thought that the man's gaze found his and he thought he could see something like fear, maybe regret, then his stare broke and he fell down on the dead impostor with a loud thud. _Ærfæder… _Merlin thought in shock. That hadn't been magic, though it had been the language of old.

"Merlin?" he heard Gwaine's voice as if through a thick mist. "Merlin, are you alright?"

Merlin forced himself to nod, though he was far from alright. More and more pieces of the puzzle were coming together and he didn't like the bigger picture behind them. After the ambush he hadn't spent much thought on how the attackers had known where to set up their trap, and he hadn't thought about how they had ended up in that cave where they had found the fake Arthur. Both times, the answer was Karim. Karim, the stable boy, whom he had befriended back when he had come to Camelot for the first time. Karim, whom he had told where Arthur and he would be hunting the next day, when he had asked him to have the horses ready the next morning. Karim, who had told them about the hiding place at Springwater Caves. Karim, who was now lying dead in front of him.

"Isn't that…" Gwaine murmured as he drew closer to Merlin and the last one of the attackers. Merlin nodded once more and whispered: "Karim." He heard Gwaine ask "But… why?", and again the answer came to him instantly. Ærfæder. The old word for father. Had the impostor really been Karim's father? He needed to know for sure, so he ignored his friend and knelt down in front of the dead body. His fingers found the pendant around the fake Arthur's neck and he ripped it off with one forceful motion. Only a heartbeat later, the transformation took place, and they both stared in awe as Arthur's delicate features were replaced by a scarred, old face and his blonde hair turned into a deep black with ashy grey streaks. The eye-color was the only thing that almost stayed the same: An icy blue that even in death seemed to radiate a flaming hate. The same color Karim's eyes had. There could be no doubt about their family connection. But that didn't explain why they had abducted Arthur and replaced him with a doppelgänger.

Then Merlin remembered the crest on the gate outside. The crest was the key. He had seen that eagle somewhere before, while he was looking through the books of the noble crests to find a suitable one for Lancelot. The librarian had actually told him about the silver eagle and its history, but back then it had seemed like random and useless information and he had forgotten all about it. Now he remembered, and the memory weighed heavily on his chest. The silver eagle had belonged to a family of nobles many years ago. But that line had ended when … when Uther had killed the lord's wife and eldest son due to accusations of witchcraft. The lord, whose name Merlin couldn't remember, had turned mad and committed suicide by burning himself, his youngest son, an infant at that time, and his servants to death inside his own mansion. Or so the librarian had told him. Lord Byron, Merlin suddenly recalled. Marcus Byron. Recent events made clear that Lord Byron apparently hadn't died back then, and neither had the infant nor the servants. The lord must have planned his revenge ever since, Merlin pondered, making sure that his son would become his own personal spy inside the walls of Camelot. It was a rather tragic story, and he almost felt sorry for Byron as well as Karim and the servant Rogar who had stayed loyal to his master even after everything seemed to be lost for him. No, not almost, he corrected himself. Even after everything they had done to him and his friends, he couldn't help but feel pity for this haunted family and their tragic story that fit far too neatly into the remains of Uther's long, tyrannic rule.

He would have a lot of explaining to do on the way back home, he thought when he noticed Gwaine's quizzical stare. His friend was still panting due to the aftereffects of the battle, and he had affixed a makeshift bandage against the bleeding shoulder wound.

Suddenly, Merlin could hear a coughing laughter followed by a hoarse: "Quite a show."

Gwaine seemed to welcome this distraction from the awkward silence that had arisen after Karim's death, because he turned around to Arthur with a sneer and took a bow in front of the prince before cleaning his blade on the clothes of one of the dead thugs. "Thank you, that was my sole intention with this whole mission: Entertaining my favorite princess." At that Arthur frowned, but didn't say anything. Merlin could see how the prince's gaze was riveted on the body of the dead stable boy. "So that's how they knew" he whispered. "But… who were they?"

"Let's get out of here first" Merlin replied and gave Arthur an encouraging look. "I think I can shed some light on this whole story on the way back." Neither of the two men seemed to mind leaving this place before hearing Merlin's explanation, so Gwaine knelt down beside the prince and Merlin watched with a smile as his friend helped Arthur up on his feet once more and half supported, half carried him back to their horses, ignoring the weak protests that came from Arthur.

XXXXX

"You caused quite the stir back in Camelot" Gwaine grinned as he lifted the blonde man up on the back of his own horse. "With me defeating you in our duel…" Arthur snorted at the undignified treatment and exclaimed: "You did _what_?" His eyes widened when Merlin continued where Gwaine had let off: "And with the kiss you gave the Lady Morgana and all…"

"I… I did _what_?" Arthur burst out in shock. At that Merlin couldn't help but laugh, soon joined by a hearty guffaw from Gwaine. It was a loud and freeing laughter and it echoed through the forest as they made their way back, but it didn't reach the depth of Merlin's heart. He knew that the more serious everyday life at court and his destiny would catch up with them soon enough: Gwaine would have to leave before they reached the castle, Morgana and Morgause were still plotting against them and the threats towards Arthur were ubiquitous. He might have saved the day this time against all odds, but would he be as lucky the next time?


End file.
